The Price
by Akaisenora Ainoche
Summary: Sequel to Scold's Bridle. Kanda's continued time with the Noah of Pleasure leads him to discover what fate awaits him. Not as many warnings as the last one, but sill quite a few...
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Price (Sequel to Scold's Bridle)  
Summary: Kanda's continued time with the Noah of Pleasure leads him to discover what fate awaits him.  
Pairing: Yucky (TyKan)  
Rating: NC-17 (Though not as bad as the last one)  
Warnings: Non-con, bondage (not as much), Kanda abuse (not as much), what might qualify as _fluff_, YAOI, liberties on the lotus mark… there are more that I can't think of.

Disclaimer: All characters of D. Gray – man belong to the wonderful Hoshino-sensei, who is on hiatus until March. In the meantime…

**Once again! Flames are good as long as they aren't pairing related. Also, keep in mind that Kanda is a little out of it for the beginning, indestructible does not mean impervious in my dictionary. :)**

**Enjoy!**

-- --

The Price

The lights of the basement had dimmed as soon as Tyki left, almost as if they were only on in his presence, and Kanda was left in the dark, looking up at the mirror that reflected his own eerie expression back at him. In the semidarkness, with nothing but the cool air on his naked skin and the image of his own face to haunt him, the Japanese Exorcist could no more sleep than he could think of what happened to him, both as distant as badly remembered dreams. It wasn't that he wouldn't be able to deal with it, he wasn't that weak. But he couldn't allow himself to at the moment. His arms ached from being held above his head and his mouth hurt, his jaw felt as if it might shatter if it was left to the bridle much longer. His tongue wanted to spasm. Between those things, he couldn't recall what had happened between himself and Tyki without being distracted. By the time he thought of casting himself out of his body with meditation, he was shivering uncontrollably with chill, his metal ringed tongue nearly numb when he tried to force it against the roof of his mouth. His reflection, devoid of color, showed him dark circles and dull eyes, and pain behind his gaze warned him that something – despite the mark on the left of his chest – was _wrong_ with him. Not long after that he grew tired and his face became too warm, his eyelids felt weighted as if by something that wasn't there, willing him into blackness. He fought it. He stabbed his tongue on the iron in his mouth and widened his eyes, but they were only delays to the inevitable. As much as he hated to admit to it, the coolness of the room and the state of his body had weakened his immune system to the point of becoming susceptible to some kind of sickness.

His chest hurt for some reason, vaguely. Minutes started to bleed into one another. His eyes closed. The pain in his head increased until he didn't want to look anymore and just squinted his eyes shut, tugging on his bonds in the hope that he could cover his eyes with the heels of his hands for a moment. He was thirsty. He was dizzy, also. But still he could not sleep, the pain in his muscles too much to ignore.

By the time the lights lifted again at Tyki's entrance, he could hardly understand what it meant when the Noah looked down at him and placed a cool, smooth palm on the skin of his forehead.

"Who would have expected this?" The Noah asked rhetorically, and sighed at the hardly conscious Exorcist, exasperated. Fingers curled around the flat snake of metal that went beneath Kanda jaw and _moved_ it, pulling the back of the muzzle through the samurai's face without so much as touching him with it. At once Kanda's feverish eyes widened and his throat produced a long, painful sound, his rattling jaw nearly closing on his long abused tongue. Tyki let the cage clatter to the floor beside him and moved instead to the ropes that still held Kanda to the bed, not that he was fighting them at the moment.

When he tried, the Japanese boy found that his muscles didn't want to respond how he told them to, twitching and flinching and moving with stupid, clumsy motions. It didn't help that everything seemed to happen through a fog, but that wasn't what made his rather pathetic punch at Tyki pathetic: it was the fact that it fell sort, and the Noah didn't notice. By the time Kanda found himself being forced into an oversized dress coat, he realized that Tyki was talking to him, yammering on about fragile creatures and silence. Kanda didn't care. He only felt that the jacket, though smoke-scented, was warm. He rubbed his wrists with the fabric – _soft_ – and tried not to pass out when Tyki left him sitting on the edge of the bed, his toes just barely touching the stone of the floor.

He felt tired still, and sick. With his right hand he reached up and touched his face for a moment, running his fingertips over his chapped lips and then between them, between his teeth, over his tongue. It hurt, but that didn't matter at the moment. It mattered that he could move and feel that part of himself, could, if he tried, speak to his captor. The bridle was gone. There was just his own numb face, his own crack lips, and bruised jaw bone.

He didn't think about the previous night. He didn't know what would happen if he did.

Tyki came back again, this time with a hot wash cloth and what looked to be aspirin and a glass of water, his brown eyes focused on Kanda's face. The Japanese man left his hand where it was, touching his mouth, and looked up at the Noah with slightly round, dazzled eyes, yet unable to understand what was meant.

"Come on, don't just stare at me," Tyki was almost chiding. "Neither of us will be happy if you die."

_Die?_

Kanda blinked very slowly and dragged his fingers from his lips only to press both of his hands to his chest, trying to see beyond the fog of his fever, feel beyond the ache in his head. Slowly, he forced himself to speak. "Why… are you… heru-ping me?" His mouth didn't want to work but he didn't care, saying something made him feel far more in the moment than he did exploring his mouth like a child. To his surprise the Noah smiled at him, and offered the two white pills almost like a plea for peace.

"I'm afraid that you're sick, Hime-chan," Tyki answered, and the pills bobbed in his hand. Kanda felt his fingers start to reach for them, not entirely sure if it was a good idea, but unable to think with his eyelids begging him to just fall over and sleep. Sleep. When had he last slept? How long had it been? His fingers found the little white circles but shook too badly to lift them. The Noah let them slide into his palm. "Good… how are you feeling?"

"Sss…ss…" His tongue didn't like that letter very much. "Not good," he said instead. Trembling, Kanda brought the medicine to his mouth and placed it inside – Tyki offered the water. Water. Without a thought of what he might be taking, the samurai took the glass in both hands and drained it, thirstier than he could remember being in all of his life. He would have licked the inside of the container if he could have fit his face in it. With that down the world was taking on a less dreamlike quality, he could focus his eyes better, but he wasn't anywhere near normal. After yesterday, if that had been yesterday, he wasn't sure _normal_ would ever apply to him properly again.

The washcloth started on his forehead with a wet sound and he closed his eyes to it, too _fucking_ tired to give a damn what or who was holding it. A hand touched the base of his skull and he just followed it, his throbbing head too heavy to hold up with something that undeniably _gentle_ trying to support it. The back of his head found the pillow and the cloth moved to his chin and mouth, wiping away the night's combination of drool and blood, catching dried sweat from whatever he had done to exert himself. His eyes stayed closed. The cloth went down his throat. His head pounded.

"You're far more pleasant today than you were yesterday." The whisper almost made Kanda's eyes vibrate right out of his skull, but that his eyelids stopped them. He frowned softly, feeling the heat of the rag delving into the intimate place between his legs.

Kanda grunted. "Don't touch me."

"Oh, that was _almost_ lucid."

He risked cracking an eye at the Noah and found him pulling away, the rag in his left hand, empty glass in his right, and a soft sort of smile playing on his face. Kanda felt a rush of anger in his stomach and quelled it – biding his time was his best bet right now, Tyki obviously wanted him alive at the moment, at least. "I haven't sss…lept yet, I don't know where the fuck I am, and if I'm right, I haven't eaten in four days douche bag, how can you _expect_… me to be lu…cid?" He shot back at once, and immediately regretted it. His voice cracked toward the end, either from over or underuse, and he swallowed thickly. More water would have done him good. And sleep.

Tyki made a less pleasant face then, but didn't keep it. He smiled almost sweetly. "If you'll just wait a moment, Hime-chan—"

"Stop calling me that!" Even as he protested, Kanda realized that the Noah was gone, having likely pulled that same disappearing act he had the first time, only now while he was blinking. The samurai growled. It didn't matter. No way out, no one knew where he was, no way in hell he was getting out after thirty-six hours of sleeplessness without Mugen. Mugen. He wanted the blade more than he wanted _out_ of this room. His blade, his katana, _his_ Mugen…

"Here we are!" The words made Kanda realize that he had shut his eyes again, softly, and he opened them again to find Tyki standing over him with a small white bundle in one hand, a larger one under his arm, and a second glass of water. The idiotic smile on his face almost made Kanda scowl to the point of making his eyebrows twitch. "Eat as much of this as you can," Tyki plopped the bundle on the side of the bed and Kanda prodded it less than enthusiastically until it began to unfold. "And wear the pants for warmth also. Then drink the water, I'll change the sheet, and you can recover from this… bug as quickly as humanly possible, hm?"

"What the hell is this?" The question made Tyki glance down and see the sideways lying Kanda frown at a quarter of fruit. "I knew Noah were evil, but _brain?_"

"It's pomegranate."

"Che. Whatever." Kanda picked up the half-loaf of bread and the small lump of cheese that had been included in the pile and began to eat them slowly, chewing every bite until he leaned closer, and gradually, as the silence grew between them, started to eat with more enthusiasm. By the time he caught sight of the strip of salt pork, Tyki began to wonder if he should have grabbed more than what he had. The Japanese man devoured the meat and then turned his attention – no longer foggy, though he winced at the lighting and shivered as if still feverish – to figuring what in a _pomegranate_ was edible and the Noah took the moment to slip out quietly, figuring that his presence would not be missed.

Kanda noticed the empty space where Tyki had been and took the opportunity to shake the crumbs from the pants and pull them on, too big, but thick and warm and _something_. He gave up on the pomegranate and just sucked the juice out, then drained the second glass of water. When Tyki came back Kanda moved a fair distance from him, leaning heavily on the wall and studying the room with eyes that couldn't properly comprehend anything at the moment, shivering still. The Noah worked quickly. When the new sheet was in place, Tyki spread two thicker blankets over it and, acting as if it was something of an olive branch, patted the surface with his hand. Kanda didn't move and instead slowly, knowing he shouldn't, let his eyes wander to the ceiling and the mirror that hung from it.

Tyki followed his wary gaze.

Before Kanda knew what was happening, a warm, solid chest was pressed to his side and nausea so thick he could hardly see nearly knocked him off of his feet. His hands curled against the stone of the wall and his stomach clutched the food in his gut, squeezing it painfully. For all the good it did him to drive his elbow into the Noah behind him, his limbs could have suddenly been made of soba noodles.

He was breathing too quickly and his skin was too cold. But the pain in his head and chest were worse than the rest of it by a thousand times – he couldn't _think_ because of them.

The sight of the mirror above him made him shut his eyes – he didn't _want_ to see himself like this. He didn't want to know. But he _did_ want to lie down. The mattress could have been heaven if not for the man who had dressed it with thick cotton sheets, a wool blanket, and a linen cover, perfectly warm and heavy against his sore, weak muscles. It didn't matter who it was that tilted his head back on a fresh pillow or why Tyki had to lift the covers by his left ankle and then put something on his right wrist, it only thing that mattered was the _heat_ Kanda could feel gathering around him, pulling him toward sleep.

The Noah put a hand on the feverish Exorcist's head and tilted it upward, making him open his black-blue eyes at him.

"Do you want the mirror gone?" Tyki ran his fingers into the Japanese man's bangs, combing them away from his suddenly narrowed eyes.

"Che." At least he didn't curse.

"If you kiss me, I'll take it down."

"Fuck you." The response was automatic: Tyki could have asked Kanda if he wanted to be let go and gotten the same exact answer.

The Noah laughed softly under his breath before he leaned forward, holding Kanda's chin tenderly in his palm, smiling. He pressed their mouths together, just lips, before he reached out and touched gently with his tongue, dragging it along the younger man's lower lip. It took only the slightest press of fingertips on the boy's chest and that mouth soundlessly parted to Tyki – not an invitation, but a reluctant allowance of entrance.

He didn't go deep. He didn't try to. Instead he pulled gently away, nibbling softly on Kanda's lower lip as he did.

The samurai would never be able to deny the little catch in his breath when those teeth were halfway finished with their work.

When they parted, Kanda withheld any foul remark he might have had, but scowled weakly at the Noah. He didn't think about anything. He didn't attempt to. He just closed his eyes in an effort to block out the slow, creeping smile that spread across Tyki's lips.

"Was that so hard, Hime-chan?"

"Don't call me that," Kanda half whispered and half growled the words, angry and yet unable to grip that anger, hating the man who leaned over him and yet finding an odd sort of reassurance in the weight on his chest. He was alive, at least, and the man above him equally so. Every time Tyki breathed the thought settled a little more surely in his mind – the thought that he wasn't dreaming, and hadn't fallen into some twisted, painful sort of hell. Kanda let his eyes fall shut and fisted his hands, fighting down a shiver. He still did, his teeth would have clattered if his jaw hadn't been too sore and tight to allow it. The man above him rubbed for a moment at his chest, as if spreading the heat from his heart to his limbs, revitalizing him, before the Noah stopped, a little from tugging at the edges of his lips.

Tyki's fingers carded through the samurai's bangs once again, pulling them away from his heated skin. "What would you rather I call you, Hime-chan?"

Kanda opened his eyes again, just a crack, and studied the face in front of him. The Noah was serious. Tyki Mikk, with his hands on either side of Kanda's head and his voice very low, eyes deep brown and curious, seemed to actually care. For a moment, Kanda was tempted to wonder if this man and Lavi could be any different.

"Kanda," he said, and his eyes closed again. "Just Kanda."

The Noah withdrew, but his right hand wandered down the Japanese man's blanket covered chest, pausing, smoothing the lines from the covers, and then, reluctantly, he stepped away again, leaving Kanda looking at the fuzzy space in front of his eyelids. What Kanda could make of the room was exactly how he remembered it, so he decided not to look or think about it and just let his sore, tired, sick body rest while his mind did the suffering. Kissing a Noah – when he wrote his report, Komui would never believe him.

A little rush of air made him open his left eye and look above him – at the blank surface of the wooden ceiling. Blank. His eyes unfocused and he blinked at it, trying to clear his vision, if only for a moment.

"See?" He was losing the war with his eyes swiftly. His whole body felt hot, the face in front of him looked fuzzy. He couldn't move his arms to push away the Noah's hand when it touched him. "I told you it would only take a kiss, didn't I?" Kanda wanted to ignore that voice, but he couldn't block it out, couldn't hide from the warm air parting against his skin. Fingertips traced the line of his jaw and across his lips, parting them gently. He didn't want that. "Sleep, Kanda."

_Yeah. I think I will._

--- ---

The Exorcist tossed and turned in his sleep, but the fever did not break by nightfall. Tyki supplied him with water every hour, but when midnight rolled around the younger man refused even to open his eyes to take it in anymore, his breathing short and forced, eyes set in dark hollows, pulse rapid and fluttering. For a time the Noah wondered if a doctor would have been good for him, maybe more medicine, but he decided such things wouldn't do for an Exorcist who didn't look capable of keeping them down. It wasn't until dawn – when Tyki found himself glad that he didn't _need_ to sleep yet so much as it would have been nice to – that Kanda finally fell into truly deep, if delirious, sleep.

Tyki still stayed, unwilling to find an akuma to help him and set on avoiding breakfast with the Earl at all costs.

It was midmorning when the nightmare came. Tyki wasn't expecting it. To him it looked as if the Exorcist went into convolutions, fighting with the cuff on his wrist before he suddenly sat up, wide-eyed and silently screaming, digging at his chest with fingers he couldn't really touch it with. It only lasted a moment before he collapsed against the mattress, shaking and awake, gasping, fingers curled compulsively in the sheets. His eyes were slowly blinking and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. He didn't focus his eyes in front of him.

Tyki laid his fingers on the boy's face and felt that it was still warm, heated from his ongoing fever. When the samurai did not immediately speak out against him, the Noah pulled his hand back and laid a cool rag he had brought down against his skin again, covering his eyes. The Exorcist shut his eyelids to it, forcing his hands to relax against the sheets ever so slowly. It was a conscious effort. Tyki saw the tension in his shoulders, the tight muscles in his neck, and frowned as he pushed the boy's bangs away from the cloth. Would it hurt to relax for just a moment?

"Take some water," Tyki said, and lifted the Exorcist's head from the pillow in encouragement – almost at once the Japanese man was so stiff he might have had a rod through his spine, forcing him so. The Noah sighed softly at it and tried, despite his thoughts, to be soothing. "You should drink, you'll dehydrate yourself otherwise."

Kanda didn't answer, not for a long, quiet moment that almost made Tyki wonder if he had fallen asleep again. "Where am I?" The question lacked the malice it had once had.

"My basement. It can be a lovely place, if you're always this agreeable."

"Che." The samurai didn't quite frown. "What happened to me?"

Tyki had the feeling that they were playing a nonsense game of Twenty Questions. "As recompense for your arrogance I left you tied to the bed frame nude. It seems to have caused a rather serious illness to take root in you. If I had known that you hadn't slept or eaten… what with the lack of heat down here… I doubt I would have left you quite so long," he explained at length, and then tilted the young man's head back until his mouth fell gently open so water could be poured inside. The Noah gave him half of the glass before he pulled it away, watching him swallow.

Tyki had to suppress the urge to lean forward and slowly run his tongue against that little bump on the smaller man's throat. Press his teeth to it. The fire in the Exorcist before him might have been what made him alluring – a dark fire, mysterious in a way that the other's weren't – but his physical attributes were what made Tyki run his tongue over his teeth in appreciation. Fragile at the moment, pale, so _weak_, and yet Kanda had not lost even a spark of the flame, he was still angry, only now too tired to lash out stupidly. Logic had settled into his brain too, it seemed, sometime after the use of the scold's bridle. That was encouraging. Tyki wondered if he could taste that section of the younger man's neck without hearing a protest by the end of the week.

"Why are you keeping me here?"

"Oh, but you know that, Kanda."

"You… took what you wanted, didn't you? Why waste the effort with taking care of me when you can let me die?"

Tyki chuckled as he pulled the now slightly heated cloth from the samurai's eyes and dropped it to the bowl of water beside him. Those eyes were closed. Rather than demand that he be given the opportunity to see them, Tyki pushed himself onto the bed beside the Exorcist, enjoying how he flinched away before he caught himself and relaxed again, not fighting back no matter how much he seemed to want to. The Noah of Pleasure lowered his chest to the smaller man's, feeling every muscle tighten one by one for a moment until he simply rested there, unmoving. "Tell me," he whispered against the Japanese boy's cheek. "Do I feel less than human to you?"

Kanda didn't open his eyes and didn't answer.

"Do I?"

"No."

Tyki smiled. "Then why would I _let_ you die?" The Noah's words brought Kanda's eyes open very slowly, still unfocused in the dim light. "Humans kill each other, animals let each other die. If I wanted you dead, I'd do something to make it so." He moved upward across the Japanese man's torso, perfectly aware that at any moment the boy would either scream at him to get off or simply fall asleep from indifference. "Fighting Skin might have given you a bad example of us Kanda, being a Noah doesn't mean having no morals. But we can discuss this later. Right now…" He pushed his hips downward, grinding them through both blankets until Kanda tried to stiffen against him.

"Don't—"

"I know you're too sick to fuck, I can see that," Tyki whispered to Kanda's jaw. "But I can make you sleep better, at least."

Kanda pushed his lips together for fear that he would say something as foul as he had the day before, his fingernails bit into his palms. "I will sleep fine if you get off of me." He breathed, and it took everything he could not to say a curse word in the sentence.

"You remember what I told you before, ne?" Tyki asked as his right hand slipped through the blankets and touched the flesh of Kanda's chest, feeling it tremble beneath that slow caress of his fingers. Kanda's free hand clamped on the blankets again, his jaw tightened. "And with a fever like yours, you might just pass out if I make you come hard enough."

The fist was so tight Kanda's knuckles turned white; Tyki moved his hand to the boy's thigh.

"Don't… I'll…" The Japanese man cast about for a threat he could use and, finding none, growled low in his throat, baring his teeth to the Noah on top of him. He seethed when the Portuguese man laughed, but didn't move, if he moved life would only become increasingly more difficult. The mirror was gone, the bridle gone, the last thing he needed was to get either of them put back again – not with how his mind was reeling even from the thought of it. He needed time to calm down, time to think without his head pounding and his eyes drooping, time to sort through what had happened and figure out who it was that had caused it. Tyki wasn't giving him that time.

"What will you do, little Exorcist Kanda? Grind your molars at me?"

"Don't…" Kanda didn't want to say please. He didn't _want_ that word to seep past his lips and into the Noah's ears, but he knew it was most likely the only way to be heard. The fingers on his thigh pressed slowly inward, making his leg jump with their tenderness. "Tyki… I…"

The Noah cupped Kanda's manhood in his palm and raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

_Not again. Not right now. Not right now. Not you…_

"Don't…"

"Are you going to cry, Kanda? You look a bit like you might cry."

"You fucking asshole, I am _not_ going to cry."

"Ah, there's the bark again." The little hint of amusement in the Noah's voice made Kanda grind his teeth again, harsher, his curled fingers hurting his palm despite the blankets. "I had thought for a moment you were going to beg me not to but I see now that I was wrong. Shame, isn't it? Having all that pride and nothing to do with it… though I suppose that by the time I get what I want from you, I'll be able to say the same for dignity." Tyki pushed himself up abruptly, his knee between Kanda's thighs, and began to stroke steadily, arousing the other man regardless of his will.

"I don't want—"

"Oh?" Tyki leaned forward just as Kanda closed his eyes. "Then tell me, what do you want? Shall I just toy with you like this? I won't let you go, but if you tell me what you want, I might—"

"To be left alone." Kanda whispered from behind clenched teeth. He felt the brush of lips on his cheek, then on his ear, talking in a very low voice.

"To be left alone…" It was obvious what the Noah wanted.

Kanda forced himself not to seethe around the word that formed on his lips. _"Please."_

Tyki shushed him and pulled his hand slowly, slowly away, a little smile tugging at his lips. Instead he pressed his fingers to the flesh of Kanda's stomach and then, in a rush, through it, stilling the Japanese man even before he could speak another protest. The Noah turned his hand palm up while he moved his it to the place he needed it to be, and then grinned with all of his teeth, watching Kanda stare at him in wide-eyed horror. "Are you sure you don't want me… _Hi-me-cha-n?"_

The movement of fingers – far too many for Kanda to understand anything but their _pressure_ – made him scream from the back of his throat, a burst of white-hot undeniable pleasure bolting from the base of his spine to the root of his now more than half-hard erection. The hand he had kept still to this point tried to shove the Noah away only to be caught and pinned as those fingers curled against the surface of his prostate again. It was the same as before – he couldn't even think to stop screaming, couldn't think to read the lips that moved to speak to him. He already felt on the edge of orgasm, and he dropped his head back against the pillows, breathing harshly, ignoring the feel of a warm, slick tongue gliding over his Adam's apple.

"You're so warm inside, _Hime-chan…_ I bet that not all of that is from your fever." The words vibrated up the side of the samurai's jaw, tickling the fine tassels of hair that hung down the sides of his face, making him shiver with more than just his illness. Tyki's mouth smiled against the turn of his throat. "Now… what were you saying about being left alone?"

Kanda didn't managed to outright protest so much as make a loud, undignified sound of need and fear, head thrown back in what had to be the most submissive position the Noah had seen him in yet. The hand slipped from within him and returned to his now hard length, stroking him in a way that was anything but teasing. The Japanese man would have moaned if he had had air to, but instead his throat closed in on itself and he choked, fisting his hands against the Noah's touch.

"You're either screaming or very quiet, Kanda. I'm curious if you know that."

"You fucking—"

"I'd avoid that word if I were you, I'm tempted enough as it is." Tyki warned softly, still moving his hand with fierce strokes. It was simple for him to pump his hand so strongly, squeezing almost painfully. Kanda's hips rolled to meet him, building on his pace, and a crooked smile spread once more across his cheeks. If it was this simple, he would get what he wanted by the end of the month. "Why don't you scream again, _Hime-chan?_ You know you want to stop biting your lip so I can hear you whimper more clearly." For his efforts, Tyki was rewarded with the hand he was holding down leaping out to take a firm hold of his shirtsleeve, something he let happen for the sake of showing trust.

Kanda arched beneath him, his teeth turning the soft pink skin of his lip a sickly yellow. His breathing had become strained.

Tyki knew he wouldn't be able to do this again, not without endangering the young Exorcist's health. He rocked his weight with the motions of his hand, an illusion that would likely overload the dark haired man's senses and send him reeling with release.

The samurai couldn't strangle his sharp intake of air at the touch of a hot, open mouth on the side of his jaw, moving toward his lips. He didn't speak, didn't try to move his lip away from his teeth, he just laid there with his fingers in the Noah's shirt, wave after wave of feeling breaking over him, each one threatening to pull him under. It was too much – far too much – he was going to either come or pass out in the next few moments, not enough air in his lungs, not enough blood in his brain. He was breathing too deeply even for his arousal, but he wasn't sweating, his face must have been red with fever.

He swallowed and cracked an eye upward. Tyki looked down at him with that same warm dark gaze, the curls of his hair falling around his face in sweeps of near jet, contrasting with the gentle chocolate of his irises. The skin that touched Kanda, the hand that disappeared through the material of the blankets swathed around him, was likely the same gray-olive color at the Noah's face. Sweat beaded a line across the larger man's brow, curling his hair away from the etched scars there. He was concentrating. He was focused on his hand, focused on the labored rise and fall of Kanda's chest, and all Kanda could see was determination masking something bright. If the samurai had seen a fallen goddess in his own reflection then here, in Tyki's expression, he saw a sculpture of Eros come to life. The wicked grin was more mischievous than evil, the purpose of his touch the kind of pain brought by illogical amounts of pleasure, the terrifying hunger in his eyes nothing but unadulterated lust. Perhaps it was the sleep deprivation that cast the Noah in such a new, strange light to the Exorcist, or maybe the fever was rooted more deeply in him than either of them knew – in either case, his hand moved from shirtsleeve to elbow, and he did not roll to throw the older man aside.

He wanted to. Part of him screamed that it was the only truly right thing to do. But what would he gain from casting aside an enemy who seemed more confused about his intentions than he had any right to be?

It might have been his last coherent thought. Kanda made a sound that could have been a warning that Tyki pointedly ignored.

Under the Noah's hands the Exorcist gave a violent, back cracking arch and opened his mouth, filled with a silent scream. He took the initiative and kissed those perfect, inviting lips, tongue and mouth aimed only at pleasure, no longer at causing pain. Kanda's hips rolled into him, three times, each one wetting his hand a bit more, and at the end of it the samurai was looking blearily upward, shivering from anything but cold.

The boy was too weak to speak but he could still glare with the best of them.

Tyki pulled his hand from within the covers, taking the mess with it, and leaned back, smiling at the man beneath him. "Now get some rest, Kanda," he instructed with another, soft press of his mouth to Kanda's jaw. "Hating me is no reason to let yourself die, ne?"

Kanda wished vaguely that he had the strength to retort before the room faded away into darkness.

-- -- --

It was three days before Kanda was well enough to sit and drink the broth that Tyki had brought him, and in that time the Noah showed a level of self restraint he was almost proud of. Not once did he do more than brush the hair from Kanda's face with his fingertips unnecessarily, even when he helped him change his sweaty, disgusting clothes. The second day he even washed the samurai's hair, handfuls of silken tresses falling around his hands, just daring him to do something, anything that would bring him closer to the Japanese man, nearer to his goal. But he resisted. He did what he could to keep the boy clean and pushed his own desires into the very back of his mind, where the y grew darker and more substantial by the hour.

On the forth night, after not leaving the young man's side for nearly a week, Kanda touched him of his own will.

The Noah stood from the chair he had moved beside the bed, brushed the boy's bangs from his forehead, and turned to leave. A hand, weak and hardly able to fight that much against the restraint that held it close to the bed frame, barely touched the material of his shirt.

Tyki looked back, slightly surprised. Kanda pale fingers trembled on the fabric but held it firm, almost claw-like the shadows of the sputtering gaslights.

"Mugen…" The word wasn't one that the Noah recognized. He stepped back a bit, displacing Kanda's hand as he moved to hear better, and the samurai shifted his limb back to the mattress, resting lightly. "I want to see Mugen," Kanda repeated, dark foggy eyes half-hooded at the older man, tempting.

"Mugen?" Tyki echoed the name with a distinctly foreign lilt. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."

The Japanese man might have been trying to be threatening when he reached out and gathered a handful of the Noah's shirt in his free hand, eyes narrowed dangerously. It was hard to tell, however, what with the lack of power behind the motion and the lack of fire behind his eyes. Tyki touched the side of his face, not near as hot as it had been, but close, and fought the urge to lean down and kiss him, softly, gently, opening him up like a flower from the inside out.

"My katana, you ass. My Innocence."

"Ah…" Tyki breathed, and touched the hand that was still tangled in his shirt. It let go but didn't yank away from his hold. "Yes, I still have it. Wait until tomorrow, I'll take you to it then. I'm afraid that moving you now will put you right back where you were before." No sooner had he whispered the words that Kanda narrowed his eyes a little, daring him to show concern. "You need to get better. I can't keep you or your sword here too long, the others will know."

"Others?" The hand on the side of Kanda's face was too cool and soothing; he couldn't push the Noah away with that pleasant sensation running down his cheek. He closed his eyes to it. What did it matter anyway? He was getting out of here as soon as he knew he had Mugen. He could indulge in one of the few moments of comfort allotted to him.

The Noah's breath was very close to his face. "I didn't exactly tell them that I knocked you through three buildings and embedded you in a mountainside, then brought you here. I told them you slipped through my clutches, badly wounded, but that you are likely to survive from that spell on your chest." Kanda felt his face react in slight shock, mouth fallen open, eyebrows wrinkling the skin of his forehead. Why would an enemy tell a lie like that? There wasn't anything to gain by it, not that Kanda could see.

Tyki saw his question before he could voice it. "I told you what I want, Kanda – my offer. If you sleep with me – with no ropes, no chains, no gags, no bridles – I will put you back exactly where I found you. Otherwise…" His face grew into a grin so wide it might have rivaled that of a jack-o-lantern. "I'm afraid I'll have to convince them that you're breakable, which will be a great deal more painful than anything I want to do to you." He leaned forward, his fingers dancing across the skin of Kanda's cheek, down to his neck, teasing a slow, feather-light line to the distinct hollow at the base of the samurai's throat. The Noah could make out every tendon in the long, pale column of flesh, just asking to be stroked, touched, or nibbled. When the Japanese man hardened his jaw the shadow that emphasized the curved of his windpipe made Tyki realize just how much weight the Exorcist had lost. It wasn't a lot, any prisoner of was could have lost more, but Tyki noticed.

Kanda couldn't hold the hardened expression long and let it fade into an expression of neutrality. "I hate you," he breathed, and Tyki's face fell into a much softer expression, almost tender.

"I know that. I never wanted you not to," Tyki admitted, "But you must think about what I told you before and what I'm offering. I _will_ have you at some point, the way I want to. The question is how much of you will remain when that time comes. If, in a few days' time when you are well, you agree to let me touch you, you can be right on your way when we are finished. But, if it takes too long and the others discover you, I will hurt you and break you and take you regardless of your current will. And _keep_ you," Tyki's voice had fallen to a whisper, his eyes narrowed to dangerous, bright gold slits, but his fingers stayed perfectly gentle against Kanda's face, playing softly through his hair. "I will make you call me master and kneel to me, force every ounce of pride you have to crumble in your feeble little hands. And you will sleep with me. You will cry out my name and slip an honorific onto the back of it without thought, gasping because mine is the only pleasure you know or understand anymore.

"But," his voice perked again as if with a smile, "You can always take the first deal. It's all the same to me."

Kanda scowled as hard as physically possible, curling his upper lip back from his teeth in annoyance. "You can't break me."

"I do beg to differ."

"Try it, _cocksucker._ You can't break me."

"That's almost ironic, given where I put my mouth on you," Tyki chuckled, but there was no mirth in the sound, his fingers slipped back against the ridge of Kanda's skull before fisting in his hair and drawing it backward, bending the samurai's neck to an uncomfortable angle. The Japanese man's eyes narrowed but he remained mute to the pain. Slowly the Noah leaned forward until there was no choice but to look at him, look and see the anger burning in his eyes. "But would you like a taste, Kanda? Would you like to know what I can do to you when I'm _not _sucking your cock?" Tyki plunged the fingers of his left hand into the samurai's throat and quickly located a nerve, brushing his fingertips across it. At once Kanda's jaw tightened, eyes narrowed. "I can pluck every nerve and tendon in your body with nothing but my fingers. I can give you unbearable pain this way, if you'd like to feel it…though I can bring you other feelings as well…" He chuckled, but he didn't do anything more with the boy's neck, not when the samurai hadn't retaliated. The fear in the air as so thick he could almost taste it.

Kanda didn't relax when Tyki pulled away, nor did he unclench his jaw, not for a very long moment. The hand that flattened across his covered chest was just as solid as any other human hand, but lacked the comfort it might have brought in that circumstance. It was the Grim Reaper's scythe pressing at his throat.

"You _will not_ break me," the samurai whispered, and he laced the words with all of the hatred he could muster, feeling his right eyebrow twitch with old determination and anger.

Tyki smiled. "Well," he sighed, stepping away from the boy, "What would you do if something happened to this… _Mugen_ of yours?" He watched what little color there was drain from the Exorcist's face. "Would you like that, _Hime-chan?"_

Kanda took the fear in his chest and turned it into anger and fire so that he could find the strength to snarl, fueled half by that stupid nickname the Noah had given him and half by his own inability to do anything but threaten him, "If you touch Mugen—"

"If I _destroy_ your Innocence, you will be entirely useless." The Noah cut in, lacking his prior niceness. His golden eyes were narrowed to slits of metal, lids nearly lost in his hair so that the disks of his irises seemed to hover there, like a pair of eerie twin moons, shrouded in black clouds. "What are you willing to lose to defend something that you no longer have?" Tyki sank down again, softly, and Kanda watched him sigh, watched how he ran the same fingers that had touched so many hearts through his hair indifferently, shaking the curls away from his face.

Kanda was speechless for a long moment, his heart clamping erratically in his chest, and he shivered, but continued to hold his tongue between his teeth.

"I…" He swallowed, but it didn't quell his fear. "I…"

Tyki nodded, his face once again the human mask of concern and understanding, dark eyes only for Kanda's face. "Think about it, Kanda." His fingers were cool and tender on Kanda's face, the exact opposite of a moment before, "Just think about it."

-- --

**So I think there's one more part to this. We'll see?**


	2. Chapter 2

**I didn't get to respond to all of the reviews as my sister thought it would be nice to clean my inbox for me. All the same, I loved them quite a bit! :)**

Title: Bargain

Pairing: Tyki/Kanda

Rating: R?

Warnings: Men touching sexually, Kanda winkling out of his mind, Tyki being evil, etc…

Disclaimer: -man and all characters therein belong to Hoshino-sensei.

Summary: Tyki's kindness is another form of cruelty.

_iAuthor's Note of Doom: When you read this, please take note that it is not – no matter how much it might start to look like one – a love story. In another universe were Tyki and Kanda weren't on opposite sides of the war, it might have been at least a one sided love of a sort, but it isn't here. So please keep that in mind when you read this – it will be more evident in later chapters._

_Yes, chapters. Because this has turned into something of a character study with plot./i_

_--_

Kanda knew that he wasn't i_well/i_ the next day, even if the fever was gone. His arms still felt weak, his legs still felt heavy, and his eyes quickly became tired if he didn't rest them on occasion which, for some reason the samurai could not entirely understand, Tyki allowed him. There had been breakfast and lunch today, meals that the Japanese man had nearly forgotten existed, and a fresh glass of water whenever he reached over with his free hand to get some. And he was left alone – truly alone – for three hours after noon, left to meditate and think and listen to the absolute stillness of the basement, not a cricket to accompany him. The silence unnerved him at first, until he settled himself against the bed and closed his eyes, letting himself sink into the most comfortable position possible while laying on his back.

After that, meditation came like second nature, and brought a level of calm that nothing else could. Silence was more or less the same anywhere, though underground rooms lent themselves to the kind of stillness that only came from the earth itself, solid and impossible to break without reverence. The sound of his breathing became quieter and quieter until it was lost in that natural nothingness, drowned by the all but deafening quiet. His heartbeat did the same. And then there was only his mind, only the events of the last few days causing a ruckus in the far corners of his mind.

It wasn't something he could shut down, either. Normally, when it came to thoughts of life and death, the events surrounding either of his could be flatly ignored by his mind – it didn't matter away. He didn't worry about it. Living on borrowed time made it hard to worry about anything he couldn't fix within the hour.

But this was different.

The Noah had done all sorts of things to him, hurt him, i_fucked him/i,_ had laughed at his inability to fight, his weaknesses. Had used that stupid metal muzzle he called a bridle. And yet, even though the Noah kept him tied or cuffed to the bed, the samurai had experienced no unnecessary pain outside of the initial warning – fingers wrapped around his heart, squeezing the life out of him. Sickness had brought medicine. And warmth and comfort. The news that Kanda had not slept or eaten properly in days had brought food and the opportunity to rest. Complaining about a nickname had more or less stopped its use, though it tended to slip when Tyki was thinking of a sexual encounter or meant to point out something unpleasant – like Mugen.

Mugen. That was a can of worms that Kanda couldn't yet open. Not until he saw his sword again.

As far as Kanda could see, however, this enemy was presenting him with a chance. It wasn't much of one, it could indeed all be a lie to make him give in and then suffer, but it didn't seem to fit. Not with how the Noah's eyes had been, looking down at him, not seeing him, seeing only what it was that he was set on doing, only Kanda's reactions. In that moment, when Tyki had forced his hand on Kanda with the excuse of making the samurai sleep, it was as if nothing differentiated the Portuguese man from any forceful individual. He went further, but that was it. The emotions behind his actions, somehow, were still human.

By the time that thought came to mind, Kanda was too relaxed to jump at the brush of fingers on his jaw, the tickle of a thumb on his lips. Without argument or even changing his train of thought he let the digit tilt his head back a bit and open his mouth as if in preparation, slow, delicate. The kiss didn't surprise him and he took part in it shyly – he wasn't sure of himself, wasn't sure of his decision not to fight this battle – but managed still to, for the first time, brush his tongue against the Noah's willingly. An obvious shudder took the older man and he withdrew, Kanda cracked his eyes a little, the better to see Tyki's reaction.

The Noah eased himself down on the bed and, with just the touch of a finger, released the restraints on the Japanese man's wrist. He sat there and simply looked down at Kanda, expression unreadable, and pulled his hands to himself, letting them dangle between his knees. Nonthreatening. Passive. The Noah was being docile.

Kanda could do little but stare.

"What was it that made you change your mind?" The question wasn't very loud, but it might have been a thunderclap to Kanda's silence-adjusted ears. He didn't show that it was, however, he only pulled both of his hands under the covers with him the way he had before, rubbing at his freed wrist.

It took a fair two minutes before he could make himself speak with any level of confidence in his voice. "I haven't," he whispered, and didn't turn his eyes away. "Trust is something you gain, not something you can threaten out of me. You haven't…" A pause to find words, in which his hands fidgeted awkwardly under the blankets, fingers picking at his too larger shirt, "I… you've treated me better here than the Order would treat you if they had you. I doubt anyone but Moyashi would even offer you a bed no matter how sick you were or whose fault it was, and he has the most against you. Maybe it's stupid to explain it that way, but I don't see another way to, not without trying to understand your reasoning." He stopped then and narrowed his eyes at the slightly gaping Portuguese man, almost glaring. "What?"

Tyki continued to blink for a moment, head to the side, eyebrows brought together in an expression of mild disbelief. "I think that's the most you've said to me since I brought you here."

"Che."

"It's not a bad thing," Tyki corrected at once, a little smile tugging his lips upward, just enough to be seen. His right hand fluttered outward for a moment before it settled on the mattress, suddenly not comfortable just i_touching/i_, suddenly timid, and Tyki leaned on it, just enough to say that he was. "It just surprised me. I never expected you to say anything to me but curses."

"I never expected you to kiss me."

Tyki laughed softly, leaning more on his hand, bringing their faces closer. "Then tell me, Kanda," his face was very close, soft eyes focused on the dark, black-blue of the samurai's, refusing to let his gaze wander. "Does this new trust you have in me end at kissing?" He cocked an eyebrow but leaned in before Kanda could protest, taking his mouth without question. A small sound of protest seeped through the Japanese man's lips but he didn't push the larger man away, didn't bite, and only paused before he reacted to the intrusion of another tongue beside his own. His eyes shut. There were fingertips on his collar bones, healed, before one hand slipped into his hair and the other went trailing down the length of his throat, then pressed flat against his chest, curving on his shoulder.

It took all of the courage Kanda could muster to pull his hands out of the covers and touch the man above him. No sooner had his fingers found fabric that he pulled his head back to pant, and

Tyki's mouth went creeping down his neck.

The hair under Kanda's right hand was soft, the skin under his left warm. The caress of lips on his throat, the slow, unsure shift of weight above him, the tender return of that mouth to his – he didn't know what to do about any of it. It was too languid, too undeniably not unpleasant, too i_good/i. _Kanda fisted one hand in the Noah's hair and the other on his shirt, a sudden rush of strange, confused emotions welling inside of his chest. Something burned behind his eyes and the room – or what little he could see of it with his eyes hooded – blurred as if under water, warmth trickling down the sides of his face.

Tyki stopped kissing him for a moment and simply looked at him. A hand hooked around the back of the Japanese man's neck, and another pressed to the hollow of his right hip. The second hand came up after a moment and once again flipped Kanda's bangs from his face, the same as they had from the beginning.

The samurai looked back blinking, and waited.

"Do you even know that you're crying?" Tyki's voice wasn't loud enough to convey much of any emotion with the words, but it was obvious he was not being condescending, but rather the opposite. Surprise made his expression brighter, concern dulled the light of his eyes, and something like regret worried at the edges of his mouth, wrinkling the skin there. Kanda didn't feel much of anything looking at him, just the sense that this, somehow, wasn't a lie. The Noah was curious. Where someone else might have presented a mask for the moment, Tyki just wasn't.

"No," Kanda responded with equal honestly. "I don't feel anything. I haven't… felt… anything since…" He looked down and then up again, eyes once again glossed with tears. What was he saying? What was he doing with this i_Noah/i_? He was Kanda – he didn't talk about his feelings, not if he could help it. "I don't…"

Tyki shushed him and moved forward, but not to kiss again – instead he pulled the young samurai against him, ignoring the little sound of surprise in the boy's throat, and turned his face into the side of Kanda's neck.

Kanda was unmoving against him, though his spine went ridged for only a moment, then relaxed as if by will alone.

The Noah bit his lower lip before he spoke very lowly, whispering into the Exorcist's ear as if the walls were listening. "I'm sorry."

Kanda went stiff again. i_No you're not. You're not sorry. If you were sorry you—/i_

"Would you like to stop for today? Until you see your sword? Mokkun was it?"

"Mugen," Kanda corrected against the Noah's shoulder. "I don't care."

That made Tyki draw away a little, as if in an effort to see, but a hand pressed lightly to his chest and he stilled, seemingly uncertain. Being touched wasn't something Kanda was used to, even on a platonic level, so the Noah breathed in and returned to how he had been, conveyed the idea that it was mostly Kanda keeping him there. "You don't care?" He echoed, and began to stroke the knotted length of the samurai's hair, almost tenderly.

"If you stop," Kanda clarified, and the hand he placed so timidly on Tyki's shirt wandered to the lowest button and began to twirl it, almost indifferently. He wondered for a moment if it was brain trouble, if the fever had completely ruined the person he had been, but he didn't think so. This was just what the he was like when someone forced away the anger and the cursing: shy and awkward and unsure of himself, like a half bloomed rose, beautiful and yet showing only half its worth.

-- -- --

The Noah couldn't stand the thought of letting things remain as they were. "Forgetting for the moment what it is that we are," he breathed against the smaller man's skin, "You may cry, if you feel that you must. I believe I would, if my rapist had done all of the things I have done to you. Asking this of you… asking you to lay with me again… it's unbearably cruel, isn't it? But I can't just i_let/i_ you go. That would be entirely under satisfying. That does not affect you, however. So cry. If you find me to be uncaring and cruel, then please, don't make this into resolve to kill me with, I want—" He stopped the words before they could go on, i_knowing/i_ what they were and knowing equally that he could not admit them, not here, not when the dark seemed so far away. It was a death wish, if not something more painful, to say those words that begged to be said in the moment, to echo in this small room rather than in the dark confines of his mind, over and over, a near silent promise he didn't know the true meaning of.

_iTo live through this so I can find you again.  
Because even if I don't know you, even if I have only seen you when you raise your sword against me…  
I just _have_ to see you then.  
When we can sit down to tea, if you like it, and touch each other without fear of what might be touched.  
Like human beings./i_

Kanda made a sudden, deep sound of denial and his hand closed on Tyki's shirt, around the button. A second followed, louder than the first, and the Noah realized gradually that these, these half broken wails of negation, were badly strangled sobs. The humiliation, the pain, the fear, the anger – all of it was in that sound, as well as the weakly balled fist that thumped him repeatedly in the stomach, lacking force. Tyki could not follow thoughts that well, he wasn't like Road in that regard, but he didn't need to. He needed only to rock the boy to know what he was feeling, and to shift a bit closer to know what he wanted.

It took nearly an hour, but Kanda inevitably cried himself nearly to sleep, his eyes devoid of tears though he continued to convulse on occasion, or bark a little sound of displeasure from his lips. It made the Noah see just how young he was – eighteen or nineteen – as fragile and terrified as a six year old, though with better reasoning abilities. For that reason Tyki guided him slowly back against the mattress and held him still. He was only slightly startled when the nearly silent Exorcist forced himself into Tyki's chest, like the sleepy child he so resembled. Tyki let a little sound of amusement seep through his lips as he buried them in the Japanese man's hair, pressing firmly to his scalp.

"This never happened, understand?" Kanda growled in a voice that hardly wanted to function, more or less devoid of anger. Tyki smiled at it and turned his face sideways in order to press his cheek into the younger man's in place of his lips.

"Of course it hasn't. Nor will it ever," he responded, and felt Kanda nod a little against him.

"Good."

-- -- --

Perhaps it was the headache, or the warm pair of arms hooked around his shoulders, but either way, waking did not make Kanda want to move. He was on his side for once – he never slept on his side – tear-sore eyes pressed to the crisp fabric of Tyki's shirt, hands bundled next to his chest in a mess of sheets and fingers. He'd cried. He remembered it distinctly, sobbing all of his emotions out, the way he would have before he had learned to meditate on each of them and look at them from the inside out, defusing each one systematically until there was nothing left but maybe anger. Now though, even if it was Tyki Mikk beside him, he didn't feel the ache of i_nothing/i_ or the burn of unsettled emotions, he just felt i_empty/i: _a blank slate, waiting for someone to lift the chalk and scrawl across his heart, or a pure white piece of paper lacking even in dog-eared corners. Like this no urge for violence filled him, no internal drive to kill the man beside him. There was only a distant sense of something like warmth, and the feeling that it didn't matter away, he could go back to sleep if that was what he wanted.

Where his face was on the older man's body allowed him to feel the beat of Tyki's heart in his right cheek, and it soothed him. The subtle stroking of fingers through the ends of his hair did the same – they nearly matched in rhythm.

Thump. Stroke. Thump. Stroke. Thump. Pause.

"Are you awake?" The question was hardly a whisper, just above his head. He had the feeling that the Noah could see his eyes but didn't answer – things were comfortable in this moment, changing them would likely send his mind reeling once again. Silence proved to be an acceptable answer. "I suppose I can stay a bit longer then. Dinner is not until late tonight." The comment was more the Noah talking to himself than to Kanda, but the Exorcist didn't mind it – the fingers began to stroke again, matching pace with the larger man's heartbeat once more.

His mind remained blank. He didn't even wonder what he would do if it was all some terrible lie. He just slipped his left hand over Tyki's ribcage, feeling it expand under his fingers, and closed his eyes again, most of his face and chest pressed flush against the Noah.

_iIt's just because he's warm. I just want to be warm./i_

Tyki continued to stroke at his hair, slowly, one handed, fingers dragging down the length of Kanda's back.

Tyki began to hum softly, following a tune that didn't quite make into his voice at that low of a whisper. Kanda frowned, not knowing the melody, but didn't react otherwise, slightly surprised by the song.

It went on for a time, and did not gain volume, indeed they grew quieter, and the hand in his hair slowed considerably, shifting down his hair until finally, at the end, it stopped.

i_"__Quem tem o nome de mae__  
__nunca passa sem cantar;__  
__Cantas vezes a mae canta__  
__com vantade de chorar…"/i_

The Noah grew very still, and Kanda ventured to look up at his face only to find his eyes closed, his expression the picture of sleep, leaning half on the pillow and half on the metal bars of the bed frame. Seeing that, Kanda understood. A lullaby. The last lullaby he had heard was Lala's, and that hadn't been at all like this – Latin, sad, meant for someone else. He felt suddenly very awkward having heard either and shifted; just enough to bring Tyki's eyes open to meet his gaze.

Tyki didn't speak, continued the stroking of the Japanese boy's hair without word. Kanda let himself relax at it, no longer even remotely worried about who or what it was that he was resting against.

"Kanda," the softness of his name made him think he could continue to remain as he was regardless of it. "Are you alright now?"

The samurai closed his eyes and nodded, unwilling to move away. He took a moment to swallow and think of words before he started, fighting with how he meant to phrase his thoughts. It was difficult, especially being he did not usually pay that much attention to thinking, but he managed. "Forgetting what we are for the moment…" he whispered in a very tired sounding voice, "I might be."

Tyki smiled at him softly, eyes that same dark shade of chocolate that they were during his most humane of moments, grinning with his lips. Gently his fingers curved around the side of Kanda's cheek, expression unchanging, and he leaned downward, but stopped before they were close enough to brush lips. Instead he studied Kanda's swollen eyes, his mouth, the gauntness to his cheek bones, and then finally kissed the center of the younger man's forehead before leaning away.

The Japanese man looked up at him without understanding, eyebrows pushed together in question.

"Did you want me to go on, Kanda? Or should I take you to see your weapon?" Tyki seemed to take note of how Kanda tilted his head slightly upward, mouth slack, the dark gems of his eyes half covered with their lids, nearly seductive. He spoke again before that sultry expression could decide for him. "If you wish it, I will leave for the day. You have been through enough that a long night's rest might—" Kanda was shaking his head, though what at Tyki could only guess, his face unchanging. "What would you like?"

_iTell me what you want and I might—/i_

"You will stop if I want you to."

"Yes."

"And you swear to me that Mugen is fine."

"You can see it, if you don't believe me."

Kanda went quiet again, eyes downcast, before he lifted his face and gradually, not having the slightest inkling of what he was doing, placed his lips on Tyki's throat. Breath caught in the older man's windpipe and he moved down the bed frame, turning slightly as he went. He didn't pin the Japanese boy this time, instead he guided him upward, kissing softly at his jaw, lapping at the underside of his chin. They were small but intimate touches that Tyki found returned to him in a shaking, inexperienced way, the blankets still dividing half of them. The Noah found the smallest little curve of the samurai's throat and pressed his teeth to it, thus drawing a half-muffled whine from Kanda's lips. He worked slowly and only with what he had at the moment, dragging his fingers over the exposed flesh of the Japanese man's neck, touching his hair, nibbling at the soft skin of his earlobes, sucking at the bump of his Adam's apple.

The younger man gave up returning those touches and simply laid his head back, fingers tangled in the Noah's clothes.

It was entirely different, and not only because it was partly consensual this time – different on a fundamental level. Kanda was surprised that he didn't feel guilty or disgusted with himself when a breathless, formless plea escaped him, louder than he would have liked. He did not grow tense at the slow, casual touch on his stomach, lifting the too large white shirt that hung over his slim frame at a gradual pace.

Tyki kissed him again, more forcefully, and slid his palm up the inside of Kanda shirt, pressing flat at his stomach and then drumming up the sides of his ribcage, then around behind him, arching him away from the mattress. The younger man whined at the press of fingernails on his back, not hard enough to leave marks but enough for him to know there was potential. He closed his eyes to it as the motion was repeated, this time with an open mouthed kiss pressed to the hollow of his throat.

The blank ceiling showed him nothing but the same wooden pattern that he had come to memorize and somehow, as his shirt left his chest over his arms and landed in a too large heap beside the bed, that made him smile. Perhaps it was that he wouldn't have minded watching himself push the Noah lower, wouldn't have cared to see himself lead the larger man back to pull his legs from beneath the covers, or maybe it had nothing to do with the amount of control he had. Maybe it was just that this, the tongue on his right nipple and the hands on his back, his own pulling at the Noah's shirt, made him feel something that, after the emptiness, reminded him of happiness.

Maybe it was excitement. Or a combination of both. Whatever the case, he pushed his mouth to Tyki's bare shoulder when the opportunity arouse, and let his fingers gently touch the skin under the Noah's shirt, tickling along the bottom of his stomach. Without much thought – or_ any_ thought – Kanda pressed his right palm over Tyki's heart, feeling it beneath his hand.

With a sharp intake of breath the Noah pulled away from the collar bone he had been nibbling, eyebrows pressed together in an expression of pain. At once Kanda withdrew his hand, moving it to the Portuguese man's shoulder.

"I didn't—"

"It's fine, Kanda. Just a sore place," Tyki explained, and the sound of his voice seemed to break the strange spell that had settled over the younger man, who pulled back into himself a bit, no longer touching with his mouth or wandering with his hands. Tyki did not particularly mind and sat back again, straddling the boy's legs, eyes turned down to his hands. He began to pick at his shirt buttons. "You weren't there, in the Ark when that happened. The room had already collapsed." He was halfway finished when the Japanese man wiped his mouth on the back of his right hand and leaned slightly forward, as if to study what he might reveal. "But I'm sure they told you what happened when the Walker boy tried to kill the dark in me."

"Che." There might have been a hint of amusement in the sound. "Lavi – the younger Bookman – has a scar."

"Just one? I'm losing my touch."

Kanda didn't answer that with anything but a forced rolling of his eyes, which Tyki found undeniably fitting.

The shirt was cast aside, dropped on top of Kanda's, and the white, cross-shaped scar over Tyki's heart exposed for the Exorcist's eyes. The shape was perfect. The skin around it looked almost welted, raised with irritation. Tyki watched as Kanda stared at it and slowly, as if drawing a parallel, looked down at the Ohm over his own heart before looking back again, dark eyes frowning, though his mouth remained in a line. His lips parted and then closed again, words lost to him for the moment. At length he tried again; shy once more, his hands folding themselves together very gently. "Is it killing you?" He finally managed, and his eyes went down again, hiding the emotion that threatened behind his eyes.

"No, it isn't." Tyki shook his head, reaching out to touch the mark on Kanda's chest. "If it was… would that be ironic? Does yours not keep you alive?" He traced the shape with his fingertips, dancing outward and up the side of Kanda's shoulder, following every mark and stroke of the symbol as if he found some meaning in it besides what was there. Under his touch the samurai shivered, eyes falling shut.

"It has saved me from long recovery times and wounds that likely would have been fatal, but…"

"But?"

"I will not live to see this war end." He said the words so confidently, so surely, that Tyki was left blinking at him, his expression one of utter incomprehension. His fingers stilled and the Japanese boy looked down at them, a strange sort of pain in his eyes. "There isn't much more my body can take before I heal at the same pace as a normal human, and even then it will become even slower. By the time the war is over, I won't heal at all. I will die slowly. And I likely won't find the person I—" He had said too much in reciting the nature of his blessing and his curse, and shut his mouth only to find Tyki's pressed against it, and the hand on his chest moving up behind his hair. A surprised sound escaped him but he didn't push the Noah away, not even when the older man let his mouth fall away and his face pressed to the side of the Exorcists shoulder.

Tyki's right hand gathered Kanda's and gave it a squeeze that neither of them really knew the meaning of. "If… this war will kill you then…" Teasingly he pressed his lips to the skin of Kanda's throat again and was unsurprised when the younger man leaned into the brush as if in invitation. "Will you promise that I will be able to see you before the end of it?"

"Why do you care? It might be you that kills me."

"I told you I had to have you, Kanda. I never told you I only wanted to have your body."

The samurai looked down at the Portuguese man with disbelief in his eyes, which swiftly turned first to anger and then to confusion, the entire time his mouth was pulled into a soft, thoughtful frown. Realization blossomed across his features last of all, forming his perfect mouth into a circle and lifting his eyebrows, the fire that had burned in his eyes returned again – though it was distinctly different than it had been – the fire of understanding.

"You want…" Kanda's mouth formed the words very uncertainly, as if saying them too quickly would make them truer than they were. The thought, the reality of what the Noah wanted, was too i_different/i_ than what he knew. "To make…"

_i"Yes…"/i_ Tyki breathed, his fingers on the Japanese boy's chin, "I want to make love to you in a way I've never wanted to with a woman. It may not be real, you might hate me, but what else can I do? Let you kill me? No… I would never live to see that decision forgotten, no matter how many times I am reincarnated. So this…" He tilted Kanda's head back and the younger man's mouth stayed perfectly open, waiting, and expectant, his eyes fluttered to half shut, fingers curled on Tyki's hips. It was all the Noah could do to keep from kissing him then. "Will you let me do that, Kanda? If you cannot pretend, I won't ask that of you. But if you can let me—"

"I told you," Kanda broke in softly. "You will stop if I tell you to, I will have Mugen is back, I'll go home. If that's the deal you have for me, then…" He blinked his eyes closed again, hiding whatever confused emotion that was behind his eyes. "It doesn't matter why you want to do what you do, or what you think can't happen, or what I want – it's a deal. Just fucking do it so I can get the hell out of here."

The words, for what Tyki could tell, were laced with confusion and pointed with anger that he doubted either of them could explain – perhaps aimed more at the situation than the Noah who held him. Still, they might have been the pointed blade of a knife in Tyki's chest, cutting deeper than Mugen might have. "Yes…" He pressed his mouth forward, taking Kanda's, and tilted the smaller man backward into the pillows, perfectly conscious of the way the Japanese boy gripped the sheets in his hands as if suddenly uncertain. It didn't matter if there wasn't love between them – the Exorcist knew that there was more to it than an animalistic desire to breed or an evil intention to hurt, and that knowledge alone was enough to make him indecisive. A step, even if he never took the next one.

Kanda became compliant. The lips on his throat made him roll his face to the side, exposing more of him, and the Noah took the unspoken invitation wholeheartedly. Kanda's body – from the very tips of his toes to the top of his head – shivered at Tyki's lips on his throat, his collar bone, and then his chest, swirling down to his nipples. The older man was very kind to them, licking and rolling them between his lips, avoiding use of his teeth, while his left hand pushed first to the flesh of the Japanese man's stomach and then, slowly, down to the space between his thighs. The Exorcist stiffened but didn't protest the fingers that moved across the fabric of his borrowed white pants, he only closed his eyes and turned his head away.

"Should I stop, Kanda?"

The samurai wordlessly shook his head.

Tyki smiled up at him and moved lower, kissing along the top of the younger man's one remaining garment. "Just a bit ago you were enthusiastic about this… whatever has changed your mind?"

The boy closed his darkly colored eyes but his expression said what his voice did not: _it is idifferent when this might mean something/i_. For that reason Tyki moved upward for a moment, long enough to lay what he to be am impassioned kiss on the younger man's lips, and slowly, shakily, pull away.

Kanda turned and looked at the Noah, not understanding. They had made a deal, hadn't they? Why would the Noah back out when he was so close to what he wanted? It seemed illogical to Kanda. As he watched, Tyki touched the top of his head as if to soothe him, and then let his hand fall, fisted on the mattress between them.

The Noah gave him a strange, tender smile, and moved back into that same, docile position he had taken up before, with his hands hanging between his knees. There might have been regret in his eyes, for what Kanda could see of them. "You may go tomorrow." Tyki whispered, then turned his face away. "With your Innocence and your coat – everything you came with. Just… rest until then." He pushed himself to standing and took two steps before Kanda's voice sounded very softly behind him.

"Is this some kind of joke?" The samurai pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them – like a six year old – before throwing his head back in something like an arrogant toss of his mane. Like a stallion, perhaps. Tyki looked at him just in time to see it and frowned, the bridle coming to mind once again. "You're just letting me go? After you said that it wouldn't satisfy you if you did, you're just… going to put me back as I was." There was fear in his eyes, painfully clear, and Tyki looked away again, gaze resting on the cords that still dangled from the iron of the bed frame.

"Yes." It was the simplest answer he could think of.

_i"Why?"/i_

The Noah's expression did not change at all. "Why do you question my good will?"

"Because you're a fucking Noah, idiot. I'd be stupid if I didn't."

Tyki blinked. It had yet to occur to him that being a Noah made backing out a deal something akin to a threat. If he dropped his half of the deal the Exorcist would no longer trust him, no matter what he attempted to do or say to make it otherwise. It was senseless logic. Tyki closed his eyes and sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "When you look at me, you will always think of Noah," he explained very quietly. "When I kiss you, the thought of what my intentions are outside of evil, outside of instinct, those things frighten you. As you are… I might as well tie you up again and have my way with you, you won't tell me to stop no matter what I do."

"That's not— "

"It is true." The Noah said forcefully, and he watched Kanda flinch at the words, exactly as he had expected. There had been a hint of annoyance in his voice, just enough for the boy to hear and react to. "If you are set on upholding your end of the bargain then I suggest you spend a bit of time coming to terms with it. I will not—" Tyki shook his head, hard. "Just _trust_ me, Kanda. I do not have it in me to hurt you anymore."

Silence settled between them like old honey, thick and opaque. Tyki watched the samurai flounder for a moment before he covered his eyes with the heels of his hands and pressed them, unable to stop a sudden shiver. What was going on the young man's mind, what made him force his chest into his knees, what made him look up at last, eyes wild with confusion, the Noah could not even guess at. He could, however, understand the emotion that coated the frightened teen's voice when he spoke. "Then don't leave me here," Kanda hardly breathed. "In the dark where I have to i_think/i_ about what you want from me, don't just… leave me here." He seemed to want to hide for a moment, to curl up under the blankets and disappear, all of the pride he had missing from his demeanor entirely. It was more than just a plea not to be left alone in the dark – it was an offer of trust. Smaller than what Tyki wanted, yes, but a token all the same. "It… gets cold." He finished, which was obviously an excuse for his show of weakness that would have – in a different situation – made the Noah smile.

Instead he moved forward to pick up the Exorcist's discarded shirt and drape it loosely over Kanda's shoulders. When the boy didn't react, the Noah sank down on the bed once more, gliding his fingers down to the smaller man's hands. The slightly catch in Kanda's throat did not go unnoticed.

"If that's true, I will have to touch you to keep you warm, Kanda."

"Che." It seemed as if Tyki hadn't heard that sound in a very long time. "I'm just…" For a brief moment, Tyki thought the samurai was going to cry again, but then he closed his eyes and stopped short. His fingers twitched slightly on the palms in his hands. "Confused." The word was a sliver of truth and trust between them. And yet, that was as far as he could go. He did not ask for clarification on whatever confused the Exorcist, nor did he continue to simply sit there, immobile under Tyki's touch. Kanda leaned slowly forward, until his weight rested just a bit on the man in front of him.

Even though Tyki knew Kanda was wrong, he nodded. "Then would you like me to keep you warm until dinner? I must leave you alone for that, unfortunately." His left hand carded slowly through the boy's hair, catching random tangles that he unknotted as he went. The Exorcist sighed.

Unwilling to voice the word, Kanda simply touched Tyki's stomach with his fingertips and closed his eyes. Very quietly, after what felt like a small eternity, he swallowed before he opened his mouth in an effort to start words. "You said… that if I told you what I wanted, you might give it to me." He mumbled, but the hand sliding down his back did not change and the skin under his hands did not move away. Tyki just listened. "I want you to tell me what makes you not want to hurt me."

The Noah sighed through his nose. Kanda shivered. Tyki didn't pull back at all. "In the last two weeks I have seen many sides of you, Kanda. The anger you present to the world, the weakness that you seek to hide, fear that you cannot ignore, sadness, confusion, relief – you are not a doll, no matter how much you look like one. It would be a joy to break you, but it would be unfair of me to try when you are so very close to it all on your own." He paused long enough to turn the boy's face up to him and slowly, smilingly, kiss the skin of his cheek. "I have asked you for something that, even if you want to, you cannot give me." Tyki's voice had fallen to a whisper, very low, and it was obvious by the color of his eyes that he was thinking about that at the moment. Thinking about Kanda bent to his will, perfect, groveling, following unspoken commands, offering himself wholeheartedly – the feral smile that took the Noah's face made the samurai shiver.

-- -- --

The smile served as a reminder. No matter how _nice_ or _good_ or _human _this man had acted, how close he came to seeming to i_care/i_, he was still, in the end, evil.

Kanda suddenly felt far too close to the Noah.

"Get out." The words were little more than a breath of wind but there was anger and hatred and pride in them, so thick the Portuguese man simply sat still for a moment at it. Kanda's head snapped upward and he snarled, pushing the Noah's arms away. "Stop i_fucking/i_ touching me and the hell out! Leave! You i_sick/i_ fuck!" The samurai threw a punch that didn't land, kicked with feet that met with nothing, he scratched, bit, and threw himself at the older man completely furious with himself. "You think I'll sit here and play your godforsaken game of trust?! Bullshit! I don't care if you dress it up with your stupid words about what you think you know about me or pretending it's consensual – you want me to let _you_ rape me!" No sooner were the words out of his mouth that he found himself spread eagle against the stone floor, pain tearing through his skull. For a moment it was a mystery to him how that had happened, and then there was a hand in his hair, dragging his head into a very forceful if unpracticed fist.

The room rolled around him as his face was pressed hard into the stones beneath him, his right arm twisted against his back.

"I do not want to do this, Kanda. Are you sure it is what you want?"

"You disgusting, shit-eating, cun—i_kuh/i!"_ He was cut off by the feel of fingers sinking into his back and skirting along the nerves in his spine, a sensation that sent pins and needles dancing through him, pain searing up the back of his head and down his legs. Kanda's left hand, next to his face, clawed and twitched against the stones without him willing it to. His lungs refused to respond to him. The hand in his back moved upward, spreading the agony from the base of his neck and then downward, bringing fresh tears burning to his eyes.

Tyki said something to him, very softly. It was lost in a sudden, angry twitch of the Portuguese man's fingers.

The moment the Noah let go, the Exorcist coughed, gasping, and attempted to move away on feet and hands that were unwilling to follow his mental commands. His legs couldn't hold him. Tyki's fingers tangled in the fringe of his hair and yanked him onto his back with only the slightest of effort, which left Kanda staring at the ceiling, panting and fighting feebly as the larger man's weight settled onto his chest.

"I will only ask you one more time, Kanda, and then I will drag you upstairs and destroy your Innocence in front of your very eyes." Tyki seethed at him when he had the boy by his wrists, effectively stilling him but for what remained of the aftershocks in his nervous system. "Are you i_certain/i_ that this is what you want? You want to fight me tooth and nail, pointlessly, when all I want from you is honesty?"

Kanda took a long moment to regain his breath, tear-streaked cheeks red with fury. "Che. Honestly? I'll i_never/i_ want you to fuck me, Noah. I don't give a damn what you threaten me _or_ my Mugen with! You think I can just start to i_like/i _you?! Fuck! I can't even like the idiots who fight beside me, what the shit makes you think i_you're/i_ any different?!" Before he could think about those words, before he could rephrase them, a mouth smashed into his, hard and forceful. There was no point closing his mouth to a tongue that could literally slip i_through/i_ his teeth and lips so he took it, kicking his feet and lifting his arms at the man above him, fighting with all he had. When the hand on his left wrist let go he reached up to take a firm hold of Tyki and, if he could, thrust him away.

Fingers brushed under his chin just as his own found flesh and pushed with as much force as he could muster. Tyki did not move. The height difference between them was not that extreme – four or so inches at the most – but the Noah weighed more than Kanda could lift from that angle in his current state, so his force ground his own shoulder into the floor, inevitably bruising him. The shirt that had been draped over his shoulders was bunched under his back, serving to do nothing about the icy chill seeping into his skin. That cold contrasted with a sudden, flurry of heat in his loins, brought on by the soft touch of teeth on his lower lip.

He was going to be sick.

The Noah let him breathe for a moment and another line of curses escaped the samurai's mouth, each one fouler than the last. With his left hand he punched at the larger man, continued to throw himself into i_getting away/i_ as panic began to settle over his mind, memories eating away at his logic.

And then Tyki was pulling away, looking down at him with an expression that was almost pained, anger evident in his eyes. The Portuguese man seemed to tower over him for a moment, his eyes burning gold, hands clenched at his sides. Kanda remained on the floor between the man's feet for only a short moment before he scampered away, sliding on hands and feet that were yet unrecovered from what the man had put them through.

Something metal dragged behind Kanda, loud and scathing, and he turned back in time to watch what looked to be a ten foot long steel pool as it smashed into his side, driving the air from his lungs. He crumbled. With little more than a wince and the i_whoosh/i_ of air from his chest, he sagged against the gray stone floor in a gasping, coughing heap, tears of pain burning in his eyes.

Tyki pulled the Exorcist up by the hair until he was kneeling and narrowed his eyes at him, regret and anger and the desire to _kill_ burning uncontrollably in his graze. He growled at the young man and dropped the rod to the floor beside him. His fingers were so knotted in the boy's hair that when he yanked backward, a few strands slip with his grasp more easily than one would have expected. "You will be punished for what you have said to me, i_Hime-chan/i_." There was venom in the nickname. "You don't trust me to let you walk away, you can't trust me to fuck you, to keep you warm – I will not give me a reason to. Do you know what it is that I am going to make you do?"

Kanda, his arms wrapped around his aching ribcage, looked up at the Noah and narrowed his eyes into dangerous, fiery slits. "I don't give a fuck what you i_think/i_ you'll make me do."

Tyki smirked. "You have your choice of gags," he said very softly, and he sank to his knees, pulling the Japanese man's hand away from his chest regardless of how much he held it back. "You can put the bridle on and hang i_Pau-de-Arara/i_ for the evening…" Kanda's hand found itself pressed against the warm seam at the crotch of Tyki's pants and the boy's gemlike eyes burst open, his mouth gaped. "Or you can suck i_this/i_ until I tell you to stop."

-- -- --

**Am I an ass for ending it there? ;3 Well, as you can see, this story has taken on a life of it's own. I think it will have two more chapters or so, which I will post as another chapter to this story – because, though Scold's Bridle can stand alone, these cannot.**

**Thoughts? Ideas? I'd love to hear from you guys. :D**


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Silence (Scold's Bridle 4/5?)  
Pairing: Tyki/Kanda  
Rated: NC-17  
Warnings: Slightly insane Kanda, abuse, cursing, general dark themes and morbidity, dub-con…  
Summary: Sometimes pain is just as good as pleasure.  
Disclaimer: I own the insanely dark plot-like thing, Hoshino-sensei owns the characters.

_Another little huge note: This chapter is dark but not as dark as the chapter following. Anything written in Japanese will be done according to what I've learned to date (I'm not fluent, just conversational) and translations will be written at the end of the chapter. I might confuse words sometimes, so warn me if I do._

_If, for some reason, I post something in Portuguese it will be in Brazilian Portuguese because I got it off of Google or some other equally horrible site because – SURPRISE! – I don't speak Portuguese from anywhere in the world and I can't tell the difference between them with my knowledge of Spanish. I'm sorry, native speakers, for my ineptitudes._

_Also – Kanda will not be stuck as he is in the end. That's why next chapter is even sadder. orz_

_

* * *

  
_

Kanda didn't know what to do. He had said the first words that came to mind at that offer, the first thing that made sense to him. His lips had parted so easily for the words to come out. It had been so simple. And yet, when Tyki's eyes flashed gold and he let go, the samurai felt nothing but a flurry of fear at what would come next. To his horror the Noah walked back to the bedside and picked up the one thing that Kanda did not want to see or feel on him ever again – the scold's bridle he had worn the first day of his capture. He tried to summon the anger he had felt for a moment before but found himself shaking, one single thought forming in his mind.

_I would rather die._

Tyki held the device out to him with an expression so hard Kanda knew there was no going back now, not even if he wanted to. There was only what the Noah wanted and his own selfish desire to not give it to him.

"Put it on." There was command in the Portuguese man's voice, an authority that had not been there before. The bridle clattered when it hit the floor in front of Kanda's knees. "If you dislike the prospect of touch so much, this should be a mercy."

The Exorcist looked up at him – still incapable of getting higher than his own knees without risk of injury – and blinked, allowing every ounce of fear show in his eyes.

The Noah sneered at him. "Are you unable to even try you impudent little brat?!" He raised his hand to strike the Japanese boy, to make a matching red hand print next to his blackening left eye, but stopped when Kanda shifted, fingers reaching for the bridle.

The moment he touched it a horrified little whimper escaped his mouth.

_I would rather die. I would rather die. I'd rather—  
Oh, God, I'm shaking. I don't want this. I don't want to put it on. I'm scared of what will happen.  
But I can't not do it. He'll hurt me again. Or worse he'll touch me.  
Why are these things happening? All I want to do is go home._

_Fuck, Yuu. Since when am I a little pussy anyways?  
But I don't…_

* * *

Tyki lowered his hand as Kanda placed first one and then two fingers on the ring of iron and slowly, bent in the middle until his head rested on the floor beside it, not looking at it any longer. Through it, maybe. The soft ivory of his skin had grown pink again in his excitement, and the blue-black lines of his hair shimmered almost wetly as they sagged around his shoulder and down to the stones he laid on, pooling around his throat. For a moment the Noah faltered.

"What will you do to me if I don't put it on?" Kanda's question was very quiet, so unsure that his lips hardly moved with it.

"Something you won't like, obviously."

The samurai was very silent for a moment, his fingers sliding across the topmost bar of the torture device beneath his fingers. His eyes closed themselves and then opened again, only to close once again, more slowly, as if he didn't want to keep them open. The Noah frowned. "Will you destroy Mugen?" The way he asked it, the way he didn't look up again and allowed his voice to shake slightly, made Tyki push his eyebrows into his bangs and bite his lower lip. The Japanese boy was worried – obviously worried – and more frightened than Tyki had thought possible, trembling so weakly, resting his spine while he could. The Exorcist expected something like that, something unbearable, and only that would make him do what Tyki wanted.

So the Noah thought.

"Kanda," Tyki's voice had gone gentle again as he knelt _seiza_ in front of the samurai to pull his hand away from the iron muzzle, and slowly guide him upward. The boy was confused again, it was obvious by the roundness to his eyes and the slackness in his mouth. Tyki pulled him still closer. It was not until the younger man was propped on his lap, shaking, that he stopped forcing him nearer and instead circled his arms low on his captive's back, painfully aware of how Kanda did not try to initiate any more contact than there already was, arms still wrapped around his frame. "If I told you that I would indeed destroy your Innocence if you didn't, would you put it on?"

_"Yes."_ Kanda's voice did not waver.

Tyki felt the left side of his mouth lift in a smile that Kanda could not see with his eyes focused on the middle of Tyki's chest. Right handedly, the Noah pulled the boy's face up and met his gaze, his expression bland. Breath, warm and hurried, spread across the bridge of the Japanese man's nose and ruffled his bangs, lifting them away from Kanda's dark, hollow looking eyes. He was in pain, Tyki realized, most likely from his ribcage. And tired, both emotionally and physically, suffering from mild nerve damage, fatigue and more emotional trouble than the Noah thought he might recover from in a year. Rape. The boy _had_ to be in pain.

Kanda stiffed at the lightest brush of lips against his own, but he let his eyes close to it, let himself gasp. Wanted or not, some things still felt inexplicably _good_ when Tyki did them.

They parted swiftly, though the Exorcist had not moved during the gentle introduction of mouths. It had only been a testing of the waters, really, and he had no more protested than he had bit into the Portuguese man's skin.

Tyki ran a thumb under Kanda's left eye, smoothing the skin there. "No, I will not destroy your Innocence if you refuse to put it on, Kanda." He said very clearly, and felt Kanda's spine straighten a bit in shock. "I will take fuck you, wash you, perhaps fetch a hot water bottle and an extra pillow to keep you company, and leave. The way you jump to conclusions has made us both foolhardy." He said softly, and leaned down again to touch his lips to the samurai's, a motion that the boy once again did not avoid, though he withdrew into himself, breathing in a line through his nose. "This time… if you hate the idea that much… you don't have to like it. Or you can, it is all the same to me."

"What conclusion did I jump to?"

Tyki smiled, then laid his fingers on the edge of Kanda's chin and pulled it up, kissing along the curve before he spoke. "You saw me smile like that, like I am cruel, and you knew at once that no matter the mask I hold in place, I am evil. I can only lie to you, cheat you, seek to destroy you, and as such I cannot be trusted to keep my word. You sought to wound me with words: they are the only ammunition you can use against me." He nibbled the turn of Kanda's jaw, left hand pressed to ribcage, and smiled at the Japanese man's ill suppressed shudder, the short intake of breath through his lips. Those elegant eyebrows shot together in an expression of denial and exhaustion, the corners of his mouth pulled into a frustrated frown.

"Don't…"

"It's not like that. I can be good, Kanda. I have friends with whom I am honest and gentle and truthful. This part of my life might be dictated by killing and war, but that is not my nature, I would much rather that things be _pleasant_ between us. I can be good."

Kanda pushed against the hand on his back at subtle, knowledgeable fingertips on his chest, swirling around each nipple. At that reaction the Noah simply let his hand fall, so easily that the Japanese boy opened his squinted eyes to see why.

"Which do you want?" Tyki went on, and brushed his palm over Kanda's ribcage only to watch him shiver at the touch against his bruised or broken ribs. Ideally they would need to be bound so the boy could rest – no sexual activity, no torture, nothing if he wanted to avoid getting fluid in his lungs.

But the Exorcist did not seem to be thinking about that. Instead he turned his head away from Tyki and looked at that innocent twist of metal, the one thing in the room that he was currently more than a little frightened of, and quaked. He was thinking very hard, weighing his options, holding one form of torture against his other options and guessing which would be worse than the others. He would not choose the bridle. If there was one thing he would not do, it would be to put that twisted piece of metal in his mouth and around his head, because he would see it so much worse than giving up a bit of his dignity and his pride.

Tyki knew however, that in the end Kanda's options were all equally terrible.

Accept for that stupid muzzle.

"Hurt me." The demand caught Tyki off guard, spoken in such a low, certain voice, nearly against the side of his face. "I won't put it on."

The Noah nodded, but didn't move for a moment more than to lift Kanda's face again and meet his eyes. "You do not want to enjoy this?" Tyki whispered, smoothing his fingers ones more across the boy's pale skin. It reminded him of warm satin under his touch, supple and thin, nearly milky white compared to his own. The urge to kill was all but a memory now, with that warm, flesh under his palm and the Japanese man's hair sliding forward enough to frame his determined expression. The boy wasn't especially boyish, Tyki realized, but rather smooth and yet unrefined, his features set together in a way that lent them more to art than function, appreciation rather than purpose. Part of the Noah wanted, for a brief moment, to see that face edged in silken curls, offset by lace and ribbons and expensive fabric – and then the desire was gone, replaced by the knowledge of what exactly he was waiting for.

"No." Kanda answered sternly, yet did not shy away from the caress against the side of his left hip.

"Why not?"

The Japanese boy closed his eyes again at the question, but then let them lift to half-lidded, terribly wet and gemlike in the stillness that followed. He was word hunting, Tyki noted, trying to find a way to explain his reasoning, a way that the Noah could not refute.

Without warning or pause, the Portuguese man cupped the sides of Kanda's face and turned his head up again, just in time to see tears escape down his cheeks and shameful anger flash behind his eyes. It was beautiful, if not for the obvious desire to withdraw burning in his gaze. "You believe that it will make you weak to take pleasure over pain, do you not? You would take the bridle, except you are too terrified of it to make yourself, so instead you ask me take you in a way that you will not enjoy."

"Fuck you. You wouldn't understand it." Kanda whispered.

Tyki knew he had hit the nail on the head at once. "It does not make you weak to accept pleasure, Kanda. Indeed, it might even make you more willing to accept my offer."

"_Fuck you._" It was almost a litany when spoken with lips that almost didn't want to form the words. They weren't meant, not how they used to be, and the Noah wiped at the Exorcist's tears as if he understood them. He felt Kanda tremble under the tenderness of his thumbs.

Tyki kept his smile small and human. "Perhaps, if you grow used to the feel of my hands on your flesh, you will reciprocate without thinking about it."

"Che." A visual shiver took the boy's shoulders and he slid backward, but not off of the Noah's legs. He did not seem to mind it as much, however, when they were speaking so blatantly of what might transpire between them, and simply rested there for a moment. "What are you going to do then?" He questioned, looking up through his long eyelashes almost shyly, and tilted his face away from Tyki's hands.

The Noah didn't answer at once. He leaned in, catching Kanda's lower lip in the way that had made him moan before, and felt a flutter of satisfaction in his stomach when the samurai gasped at it, half-down eyelids sliding shut. Heat rose up under his cheeks enough that Tyki could feel it in his hands, and Kanda's breath came in quick, deep gasps when the Noah repeated the motion, then moved down the boy's tense neck, still pressing with his teeth. The Japanese man clutched at his chest and shook, but did not protest the tenderness of Tyki's bites on his skin, did not shift back anymore than he already had. Instead he took it as if the touch was a punishment to be endured without protest, lips pressed stalwartly closed.

Tyki moved his right hand down the length of the boy's neck and slowly, at the same time as he pressed his teeth to the flesh of Kanda's throat, slipped it against the smaller man's budding erection, just enough to be felt.

Despite his obvious effort to stop himself, Kanda took in a sharp breath and groaned, curling his arms more tightly.

The Noah shushed him and moved back up to suck on the tempting skin of Kanda's right earlobe – which got him a forced clenching of the Exorcist's jaw and a strangled sound of appreciation. Tyki smiled. The taste of him, the smell of fear and sweat, the catch of air in Kanda's throat – it all made him want so much more.

"Is it good?" He questioned as he started down the Japanese man's right shoulder, still nipping on occasion.

Kanda remained tight lipped at a second touch against his now undeniable erection, biting the lower one.

"Kanda?"

"Don't do this."

"But this is what I have decided to do, Kanda, because you won't put on the bridle." Tyki explained, and his hand pulled the fabric of the Japanese man's pants away so quickly that Kanda opened his eyes for an instant, mouth gaping at the touch of skin on that heated part of his body, so gentle compared to the punch that had struck him not long ago. Tyki smiled into the younger man's throat, then leaned up enough to kiss his slightly open mouth, closing his teeth softly against Kanda's tongue.

The boy whimpered again.

Mild pain, it seemed, wasn't something the Exorcist was adverse to. Vaguely the Noah wondered what his tolerance was and decided not to test it, a little smile coming to his lips as he pulled away. Without preamble he pushed the boy against the stones and pinned him none-too-gently in place, mouth pressed to Kanda's throat, fingernails lightly brushing the skin of his stomach while his right hand, started to stroke in long, slow motions. Hands came up to his back and, to his surprise, pulled him closer, fingers digging into his skin. Tyki continued to bite at the smaller man's flesh, and grinned wickedly when a strangled, needy sound escaped the long haired man and the cock in his hand twitched in appreciation – the left side of Kanda's chest, under his collar bone was a very sensitive place, it seemed.

"Stop… sto—" Kanda made the most embarrassing whine in the back of his throat when Tyki bit him again, and arched away from the stone floor, hitting his head on it with enough force to make him blink his eyes at the sting in the back of his skull. His pants were dragged completely away, leaving him naked, cold searing up from bellow him and heat pouring down from above, confusing his senses, pain and pleasure dancing through his skin. "_Yamete—yame—"_ He squirmed at the press of a thigh against his length, clothed, and fingernails biting into the back of his neck in an effort to pull his face upward and take him in another, deeper kiss. It didn't matter. Even if he mentally did not want this, did not want the fingers that sank into his neck and immobilized him, he stilled loved it, from the feeling of pain to the bittersweet taste of cigarettes, he enjoyed it all.

Tyki rocked back and then forward, driving his leg into the smaller man's arousal. The kiss broke and he bit Kanda again, and this time there was no word of protest or denial, only a lifting of the younger man's voice in a loud, trembling wail of desire, demanding a response.

The boy's hands slid from his sides, no longer capable of moving, and the samurai fell silent suddenly, Tyki's fingers having slid higher on his spine.

The expression Kanda wore was not worried but rather frustrated. The little chuckle in Tyki's throat did not change that whatsoever.

"I never marked you for a masochist, Kanda," Tyki breathed down at the boy, very slowly moving his fingers away from his spine until the rested on skin once more. His hand slipped upward until he caught Kanda's hair in his fingers and carded it, moving in a motion that, gradually, made the younger man's eyes close. The Noah smiled when there was no argument on Kanda's end, only more tears. "You're so very fragile… but you don't even know it yourself, I don't think. If I fuck you now, what will happen to your mind, Kanda? Will they even want an Exorcist made of glass like you are?"

Again Kanda didn't answer. He simply moved his hands to his face and pressed at his eyes, blocking out the Noah above him.

Tyki continued to run his fingers through that silken hair with a frown. "As good as it would be for half of me, I do not want to see you broken unless I mean for you to break," he whispered, and moved his hands enough to touch the backs of Kanda's, pulling them away from his tear streaked face. The Noah leaned down and kissed him very gently, no more pain, no more teasing, and Kanda let out another strangled sob through the contact, so very close to doing exactly what Tyki was afraid of. Tyki withdrew and met the boy's eyes, noting the fear and pain and confusion all drowning the anger that should have been there, the fire that should have burned them both. "Why are you so close to falling apart in my hands, Kanda?"

The samurai's mouth started to form words but his throat did not voice them. His hands squeezed Tyki's for a moment then tried to let go, only to squeeze again a moment after, harder than before.

"You must speak so I can understand you."

But Kanda didn't seem able. He simply shook and opened his mouth only to close it again, still crying nearly silent tears that Tyki could only guess the meaning of.

With the same tenderness that he had used before, the Noah moved back on his knees, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses down the expanse of Kanda's neck and chest, feeling him twitch soundlessly. Tyki made it to the boy's navel without even a moan and began to worry that, somewhere along the way, he had done something that had ruined the boy from the inside out. In another time, another universe, where he wasn't a Noah, he might have stopped what he was doing to ask if his captive was alright.

Here, now, in the world where there could be nothing more meaningful than what there already was between them, he reached into his pants pocket and withdrew the tube of lubricant he had used before.

Kanda remained voiceless, but his hands returned to Tyki's shoulders as if they didn't know what they were touching. They wandered aimlessly from the underside of Tyki's chin to his collar bones, then down and around his shoulder blades. Quickly, they migrated through his hair, tangling it, before they came to his face, distracting him from what he was doing.

With his right hand wet and slick with liquid, the Noah pulled the Exorcist's right leg upward, resting it on his shoulder, before he rubbed it forcefully across the young man's sphincter. His eyes, however, were only for Kanda's face at the moment.

Sapphire eyes shocked wide at him, the downturned mouth opened in a silent moan. Air escaped Kanda's lips and Tyki pushed a finger forward, but Kanda did not push himself away. His tear stained cheeks took on a rosy tinge and his hands moved back to his own body, trembling claws that, to the Noah's horror, bit into the boy's flesh. Blood seeped from the little wounds they caused and ran down Kanda's upper arms in thin red lines, heavy with the metallic scent of copper.

"You want it to hurt that badly, Kanda?" Tyki whispered, his face taking on a somewhat sad expression.

The younger man nodded, still tearing at his own flesh as his fingers moved closer to his throat, but he remained verbally unresponsive.

The Noah pulled his one finger from within the Exorcist and opened his own pants to smear the remainder of the ointment on himself, coating his cock liberally. He rejected what remained of the cream from his hand before taking a handful of the boy's hair and yanking him upward, bending his bruised ribs and forcing him into an awkward sitting position, head tilted toward the ceiling. Tyki pulled Kanda forward at the same time that his slid himself at the younger man, bringing Kanda's naked thighs into contact with his pants.

And still the boy did not make a sound.

"This will hurt. You will likely tear, but this is what you want, isn't it?" Tyki growled into Kanda's neck while he urged him higher. There was blood under his lips and the taste of it, the smell, brought out a tendril of the darkest aspect of himself, thickened his own with lust. Broken or not, prepared or not, desiring pain or not, the Noah wanted the Exorcist. To make him scream, to make him beg, to make him cry. There was little Tyki wouldn't have been happy with, especially if his cruel kindness resulted in the outright destruction of Kanda's former self.

The Exorcist's breath quickened at the words, but he did not protest the hands that held him or the pressure that guided him onto his knees, facing away from the Portuguese man.

Tyki kept his hand in Kanda's hair while the other snaked around the boy's throat and touched the tiny cuts there, letting the salt of his skin sink into them. At the same time he eased his hips forward in warning. "Kanda?"

The samurai sucked in air as if to speak but the mechanism continued to be broken, negated by something that made his eyes narrow at the hand in his hair and forced his lips apart. Rather than protest, rather than pull away and beg for something else, Kanda closed his fingers on Tyki's wrist and rocked back into the Noah, bending his neck down again. The act of submission, though obvious, was not an act of consent. It was the pain the boy wanted, not the sex, or the humiliation. He wanted, despite his best efforts to the contrary, to be hurt.

With a wicked smile and lowering of his head, Tyki pressed the head of his erection into the too-small space in front of him. "You could have liked this a bit more than you will this time, Hime-chan, but this is the alternative you wanted. Remember that. I was going to punish you, yes, but you _chose_ this for yourself." His right hand left the boy's hair and moved to the heated juncture between his legs, providing him with pressure but not much else, using only the flat of his palm. It was the hold that let him – without further warning – snap his hips forward and sheath himself in the tight, clamped, half-prepared heat Kanda's body offered.

Kanda's face tilted toward the ceiling and his mouth fell open, the cascading ebony lines of his hair dancing down the puce-on-ivory skin of his back, trickling down like a shining black waterfall. He silently screamed. The air was there, the force, the emotion, and yet he produced nothing but a long hiss and a back-cracking tremble before a silent plea seeped through his lips, foreign and quavering, like a well meant prayer. His fingers tightened almost painfully on Tyki's wrist before his right hand fell away to the stone floor beneath him, shivering against the granite.

"Are you broken, _Hime-chan?_" Tyki whispered, leaning so the boy had to hold up a bit of his weight, firmly seated within him. It was hard to keep his own voice from shaking, but he forced himself to manage. "Have you lost your voice?" He questioned even more softly, and stroked with his right hand in order to bring a bit of pleasure with the pain, to even the balance and offer some comfort.

Kanda's hair slid around his shoulders like oily ink sliding across water, sliding around his shoulders. His face tilted downward and he opened his mouth again, but only tears fell from his eyes and air parted his lips, no words escaped him.

"Can you understand me?"

A distinct nod, rapid.

"I will do this quickly, do you think that will help?"

Kanda nodded again, harder, and his fingers dug into the Noah's skin, painfully tight.

"If I hurt you more than you are willing to bear, Hime-chan…" Tyki tilted his face to the side, pressing his lips to Kanda's ear so he could mumble against it very softly, breathy and slow. "I suggest you tell me somehow. You are…" He allowed his voice to fall to little more than a breath and he relaxed. His chest pressed against Kanda's back like a wall, but his fingers loosened, letting the boy have the illusion of comfort around his throat and between his legs. "Frightened," Tyki finished at length. "If you trust me, if you are calm, this will not be as bad as it first felt. You also," he rocked back and then forward, very slowly, but with enough force to make the Exorcist shudder beneath him. "Might…"

Kanda unleashed a gasping sob, face turned to the stone between his knees. His demeanor spoke of pain and fear, but the slow release of his internal muscles signaled the Noah to something completely different. The long haired man was not allowing this by any means, he simply didn't have another course of action prepared. And there was the pain, it seemed, that he wanted so badly, the punishment, the raw exposure of what Tyki could enjoy in his inhuman state. But his relaxing, the gentle way his insides betrayed him, suggested that this was somehow a relief from the suffering he had already endured – a reprieve from his psychological tortures, somehow.

It did not make sense to Tyki, but he would accept it as it was. With a slow, forceful movement of his hips he made the boy crumble, he pressed his trembling mouth to the underside of Kanda's jaw.

"Shall I?"

The nod was so small, the Exorcist's head might have bobbed a bit in place with their motions, but Tyki knew otherwise.

The Noah did not tease or act as if he wanted to be slow and gentle: he did not make love. Tyki slammed his hips forward, grinding Kanda's knees on the floor, but kept his hands tender on the boy's flesh, as if to contrast what he was doing and what, if the Exorcist was willing, might have been. His pace, however, was not quick. Instead he moved laboriously, easing himself forward and back, but with no lack of force, burying himself to the hilt with every finished motion. It was hard to keep that torturous speed, difficult to concentrate on anything but the vice-like grip of Kanda's muscles around him, but he could and would manage. The boy would hurt, yes, but he would also like it. Perhaps more than he wanted.

For a whole two minutes the Noah kept himself in check and Kanda reacted only with heavy breathing and dry sobs, trembling with both pain and pleasure. He took in air to speak again, twice, but he produced not a sound of protest nor a word of encouragement, the words he wanted to convey tangled up somewhere along the way.

Tyki smiled. He had told the boy to choose a gag, after all.

He began to stroke in time with his thrusts, wrapping his fingers so tightly the touch had to be just on this side of pain, which was what the younger man seemed to want. It was not long before they were both suffering from his slowness, Kanda more so than he was, threatening to fall under their combined weight, panting. Tyki increased his speed a bit but kept his hand purposely off rhythm – forcing the younger man to pick between his hand and the length with him.

Kanda was too weak to go on long, the Noah realized a bit too late. With broken ribs every thrust had to be bittersweet agony inside of him.

Tyki fought down the urge to grin inhumanly wide. Instead he changed angle and swirled his thumb over the top of Kanda's erection, touching the sensitive tip a the same time that he slammed his own arousal into the boy's prostate, arching the Exorcist away from the stone floor and grinding him into it at once. He kept his movement steady, aiming constantly, focused on the rushed, labored sound of Kanda's breathing, the broken hiss of his sobs. Tyki heard himself growl and the breath catch in Kanda's throat in answer, and threw his hips forward so hard and fast that the room threatened to narrow into nothing for just a moment. The division of what was good and what wasn't began to melt.

It was a delicate balance to keep his current state of mind and not _kill_ the Exorcist at the height of his pleasure. So he held it back in as tight a rein as he could manage.

The muscles clamping and trembling around him, Kanda's hand sliding from his arm up to the back of his neck, the twitch of the erection in his palm – Tyki moaned. The boy's fingers tangled in his hair and pulled, voiceless and yet just as desperate as the Noah felt.

With a twist of his hand hot, sticky fluid splattered on the floor between the long haired man's legs and his whole body went momentarily rigid. The boy's insides tightened, his hand dug into the stone floor until his fingertips bled, and he tried, with everything he had, to scream. Kanda's lips parted in silence for a moment, fresh tears pouring too hot and too small down his face.

Tyki came shortly after, a startled cry in his throat. The pleasure overwhelmed his senses for a moment and heat spread out from his groin, taking his seed with it, rocking him forward with on last, powerful movement of his hips. It was enough to satisfy him and make his legs feel weak, enough leave him panting.

And the Exorcist was still breathing, at least.

* * *

There were words, but they didn't have any meaning. Kanda couldn't use them, couldn't scream, couldn't put voice to the sobs that racked his thin frame as he collapsed against the stone floor, naked and smelling of sex and blood. Everything hurt. His eyes hurt, his head, his arms, his throat, his chest, his knees – _everything_ hurt in a dull, aching sort of way if not a distinct stabbing pain. What hurt most of all, though, was knowing what he had done. He had spread his legs like Tyki wanted, and taken pleasure in the Noah's unrestrained lust.

At least agony made the pleasure and guilt go away to some extent. At least the pain would one day, not so distant, kill him.

With that thought the young man lifted his head from the floor and brought it down again forcefully, smashing his left temple against the stone. Pain swept through him from that point to the base of his neck and the world shifted sickeningly, melting in on itself in a swirling pattern. It hadn't worked, the pain faded. He repeated the motion, harder this time, and felt his skin tear before he moved to do it once more, to block it all out with darkness.

Tyki's hands on his shoulders stopped him.

Kanda wanted to protest and he opened his mouth to say something – anything – that might make the Noah let go, let him be unconscious, let him _die_. But no, he didn't want to die, he needed to do things before he died, even if he couldn't actually seem to remember what they were at the moment. He was supposed to want to live. He was supposed to endure. But he didn't want to live with this man who hurt him so much. He didn't want to. He wanted away. To sleep. He wanted rest. Surrender. No, not surrender, he was too good to surrender, he want something, something different, something that would give him the peace of death without the dishonor of letting the man kill him.

But wasn't that what the man was doing? Killing him with his stupid hands and his gentle touch?

Pain was better. Being hurt was better than being held. He wouldn't think if the man would just _hurt_ him.

Kanda's mouth shut at the touch of fingers on his face, accompanied by words he no longer cared about.

The larger man continued to speak to Kanda, to say his name, but the boy couldn't make himself pay attention to it. All he wanted was to go away, to retreat into a dark corner and just stay there for as long as possible. Like a closet where his mother couldn't find him.

Tyki cupped the sides of his face with worry set deep in his gold and chocolate eyes, still yammering on about something, most likely asking him things. The Portuguese man's hands were large and warm; they made Kanda's eyes feel heavy. Tyki's voice a velvet textured sound, very soothing. Maybe the Japanese boy had what he wanted right here, a dark, warm space to hide in, if only he would try. It hurt to be close to it. But it kept talking. Nonsense, just syllables. It didn't sound like Japanese and why would Yuu want to speak anything _but_ Japanese?

The dark space that he found in the other man just needed to be quiet.

Kanda lifted his fingers, red with blood, enough to touch the Portuguese man's lips and still them. At once there was silence, deep, like the earth, and he sighed at it, eternally thankful.

He knew how to deal with silence.

The Exorcist slumped forward, until his puffy, swollen eyes touched the skin of Tyki's neck. He didn't like this person, but they felt good. And in the silence, in the stillness, bleeding on the Noah's pants, he could just be.

"...Kanda?" Tyki's voice hardly reached him. "You have wounds. You're temple is blee—"

Kanda would have shook his head but he couldn't from that position. He would have to speak, if he didn't want to have to pull away, but that didn't work either. He sighed against the Noah's skin.

"Kanda?"

No. He wouldn't respond. The man couldn't make him move if he didn't respond.

"Hold on to me," Tyki's voice suggested very softly. "And I'll take you someplace nice."

* * *

The boy acted as if he had never seen a bath before. Or maybe as if he expected to be tied up and water boarded rather than actually washed. The Exorcist held on to one of the golden towel racks with one white knuckled hand while the other wandered from his mouth to the purpling line on the side of his chest, completely without pattern or reason. He did not try to escape, did not try to fight. Instead he kept his eyes firmly on Tyki as the Noah moved around the room and the tub filled, indifferent to the fluffy black bathrobe that draped the younger man's shoulders.

For a while the dark haired boy had been more than entertained by the fabric, rubbing it on the uninjured side of his face, pinching it between his fingers. The Order, it seemed, did not have nice things for their Exorcists to wear when they were not dying for the cause. Or Kanda had never indulged.

Tyki did not particularly like this new side of his captive. It was interesting though. He wanted to know what, exactly had rendered the Exorcist mute and owl-eyed, what made him loose that fire. The Noah would deal with the consequences of what had happened one way or another, but he still wanted to know what had caused it – or what could fix it – in case he was tempted to do the same thing again. Tyki enjoyed Kanda breaking, not Kanda broken. If this was it, he'd have to kill the boy for the lack of possible fulfillment on the younger man's side of the bargain.

And then Kanda turned to the white marble counter and began to run the sleeve of the bathrobe over the surface, an assumed little expression on his lips. Like that, a part of Tyki wanted to tell him it was fine, he could just give up his Innocence and stay here, a shadow of the angry creature he had once been, but twice as lovely. As the black fabric swirled the Exorcist let go of the towel rack and began to trace the glimmers of gold in the marble, hurt fingers shaking. So very childlike, with the robe left hanging open, that Tyki could not help but frown.

He turned off the water and moved to Kanda's side, but remained unnoticed until he reached out and took the smaller man's hand, stilling it just before the start of the mirror. The bathroom was more than adequate for two people, with a large, open floor plan and blindingly white tiles, two huge golden towel racks overflowing with their white, delicate burdens. The countertop that Kanda pressed his fingers against was littered with men's toiletries, from a straight razor and badger tail to nail clippers and a comb. The mirror stretched over the counter and sunken sink, then ended a pair of dim electric lights, golden fixtures and crystal domes.

Kanda didn't seem to see any of it. When Tyki touched his hand, however, his eyes darted to the mirror and he stiffened, open mouthed.

He tried to back away but stumbled into the Noah's chest. Panic flashed in his eyes.

The boy was scared of his own face.

Tyki turned the long haired young man to look at him and Kanda lurched into his chest, driving his wounded face into the turn of the taller man's neck, hiding there. The Noah was taken aback by Kanda's actions, but he didn't let himself show it for more than a fraction of a moment. He wrapped his arms around the boy and tilted his face up, looking at the gentle lay of Kanda's eyelashes against his cheeks.

"Come now, the water will get cold if you spend too much time fretting here," Tyki whispered, but he could not make himself move for a moment, too taken with the way Kanda leaned on him, as if the Exorcist did not know what he was touching. The Portuguese man stroked one hand through the boy's hair while the other curved down behind his hips, playing against the dip of the smaller man's back. "You understood me before. Are you alright, Kanda? Did I break you?"

Kanda's fingers touched the waist of Tyki's pants as if he didn't know what they were. His lips parted but he did not react otherwise, though fresh tears started down his face, his soulless eyes focused on the wall to Tyki's left.

It was not the tears that made Tyki hug the smaller man, nor was it his lack of response. He embraced him in the hope that something without strings would bring back the Exorcist he had brought here to entertain him. With gentle fingers he brushed away the bathrobe, exposing the dark bruises that marred the boy's cream colored back, and sending the curtain of his hair dancing against the yellowish white surface behind him. Even the marks were perfected, though more faded than they should have been. Tyki let his fingers trail to one of them, prickling across the surface before they moved away from the very dark blotch on Kanda's left shoulder and down to the pristine skin bellow it. From there, he could turn his captive toward the bathtub without letting him go completely, like leading a partner in a very awkward, very slow dance step.

Once they were beside the tub, it took only a moment of cajoling before Kanda wiped his eyes on the backs of his hands and splashed his way into it, wetting a good portion of the ceramic tile as well as Tyki's feet. He let the Noah take his hand before he melted into the water, his sore, tired muscles more than willing to give in to the luxury.

Tyki was mildly surprised when the Japanese man did not seem to require aid. Kanda wet his own hair, running his wet hands through it repeatedly until he finally gave up on that strategy and leaned his head back, looking at the ceiling. The tears either mingled with the steaming water or dried in the heat, in either case his reddened lids drifted closed once he was wet, and he leaned his head back on the lip of the tub, breathing deeply. Tyki fought down the urge to touch him.

It was perhaps three minutes before the boy opened his eyes again and reached for the nearest bar of soap which he scowled at after he smelled it. It was flower scented, there shouldn't have been any reason _not_ to like it. Grudgingly the Exorcist ran it across his palms and then flipped his hair over his shoulder before he began to scrub the ends of it, working upward slowly.

"You're supposed to use shampoo for that," Tyki mumbled, and reached out enough to touch the back of Kanda's hand – the one he had clenched around the soap.

Kanda jerked away but only for a moment, a deep frown on his features. He opened his mouth again, the same as always, and he bent his neck forward as if it would force the words from his mouth. It looked painful, with how he pushed his eyebrows together and hunched forward. The soap started to slip from his fingers.

_"Ore wa…"_ Kanda almost stammered, but then his eyes closed and he gripped the bar to his chest. _"Shabon ga suki da."_ It was a whisper, broken and hoarse, weak, but it was enough. He wasn't himself. The return of his voice did not mark the return of the light to his eyes, but it was one, small step in that direction. He did not seem to see who he was talking to, or understand where it was that he was, or ever that he had spoken at all, in strangely accented and yet completely understandable Japanese, no less.

Tyki used the hand that wasn't already on Kanda's skin to brushing the wet hair away from the young man's eyes. _"Shabon o tsukatte."_ He didn't even have to hunt for a time when he knew how to say it in Japanese, for the memory of who he had once been. It was just there, brought on by Kanda's helplessness. The boy's eyes didn't even widen at Tyki's words, didn't seem to understand what had transpired. Instead he nodded and began to scrub at his hair again, very gently, looking at the length as if it was alien to him. Kanda was going through the motions. Kanda wasn't any more there than the Walker boy was. It was all just a façade.

The rest of the bath went relatively smoothly though Kanda didn't speak again. When he was finished, and his hair rinsed, he wiped himself dry with the towel Tyki offered before taking up a place on the closed toilet. Sitting there, towel around his waist, he waited while the Noah dressed his broken ribs with line after line of soft white gauze.

Tyki wrapped the boy in his bathrobe once more, then started on Kanda's hair, bushing out the length and braiding it so it wouldn't tangle. When that was finished he left Kanda there with little more than a word of farewell, dark eyes lingering too long on the samurai's slim frame. As he closed the door behind him he had only a moment to watch panic flash across Kanda's eyes before he was gone.

--- --- --- ---  
Yamete. – A surprisingly polite version of "stop."  
Ore wa shabon ga suki da. – "I like soap." (this version of soap comes from Portuguese, unlike the actual Japanese word [sekken] because I thought it sort of fit better.)  
Shabon o tsukatte. – "Use the soap."

_Awkward place to end, but the next part is very emotional and dark and the chapter is already quite long. So I'll let it end there. ^^;;_


End file.
